Cairns
Merriam-Webster defines a cairn as: a heap of stones piled up as a memorial or as a landmark. I rather object to the word “heap”. Heap sounds careless and without artistry. The cairns I’ve known are very deliberate and quite artistic. Form + function, of which I approve.
Not a heap.
My lived experience of cairns has been that cairns mark trails in parks where I hike and cairns magically appear overnight on the riverbank below the dam in River Falls, WI. Now that I’m thinking on it, I realize I have also stumbled upon the random cairn out in the woods.
The random ones feel like, why not cairn here? The magical ones feel like joy and wonder. The cairns that mark trails where I hike feel like a steady, guiding hand telling me I’m still on trail and I’m safe.
Random cairn. Beautiful, joyful, wonderful.
Having done a fair amount of hiking in parks, I am deeply grateful for the park rangers, employees and volunteers who keep me on trail with their beautiful (aka not heaped) well-placed cairns. This is especially true when the trail gets hard to discern. Trails get hard to discern when one is hiking up the rock face of a mountain with many, many rocks and not much else. In these conditions it’s easy to lose the trail. (I speak from experience here.) So . . . you look for cairns. When you find one, you also find validation and hope.
At times my off-trail life has become a mountain face with many, many rocks. Everyone’s life goes through challenging moments when the trail vanishes and the next steps feel murky. Or scary. Or impossible. Or terrifying. Or like “hell no”.
A murky moment on-trail. Sometimes off-trail life feels just like this.
What to do? Look for a cairn!
My life cairns include my daily practices: deep breathing, long walks outside, journaling. Also the teachers I’ve had the pleasure of studying with. Their words and lessons are life cairns I carry with me. I can rely on them to pop up when I’m struggling and feeling overwhelmed, reminding me that the trail is still there, I just need to pause and apply what I’ve learned. There are also moments on the trail of life where a new teacher, a new lesson, a new practice is required. Inevitably, with a pause and setting an intention, these life cairns appear, I learn what I need to learn and the path becomes clear again.
Winter cairn. Waiting for spring.
This leads me to a few questions for you:
What do you do when your trail gets rocky or disappears?
What does it feel like?
Many of us pause, some of us forge ahead, some of us retrace our steps. There’s no right answer as all life paths are different. But one thing I know is this: when the trail disappears there is a cairn out there for you, regardless of which direction you take.
What are your life cairns? What are the markers that keep you on-path and on-purpose, letting you know you’re still on trail and safe?
What are your life cairns?
I’d love to hear about your life cairns. Please share them in the comments below or shoot me an email.
Cairns along the Kinnickinnic River.
My daily walks are a key part of my spiritual practice. Being outside, communing with Nature, connecting body, mind and spirit makes me whole and builds my resilience. Walking is indeed a go-to life cairn for me. And . . . wonderfully enough, I get to see cairns as I walk! Inner and outer worlds mirrored perfectly in one simple activity. What could be better?