The Wonders of Wandering

I call them the 'magic hours'. They are patches of time, often in the early hours of the morning or late at night, where the world is quiet and feels as if it belongs solely to me. For me, quiet reflection is therapeutic - even necessary.

I crave occasional stillness, where my heart and mind can be thoughtful and I can communicate with God.

I remember a number of such quiet hours with striking clarity...

When I was seventeen years old, I packed my bags the day after high school graduation to move across the country to Washington D.C. I would be spending my summer working on capitol hill as a Congressional intern.The experience was incredible, challenging, empowering, and sometimes a little lonely. I felt somewhat shaken by the many new arenas I was now forced to navigate.

One evening, after a particularly hectic and frustrating day on the hill, I slipped on my Asics running shoes and hopped on a metro train headed to the Smithsonian stop. I wanted to think, to clear my mind and find a moment of stillness to process some inner restlessness I couldn't seem to shake. I emerged from the metro as sunset fell, beginning to run on the crunchy gravel towards the Washington Mall's reflection pool.

When I reached the pool, sticky from the warm humidity, the sky had fallen dark and the national monuments were bathed in washes of white light. Jumping on the cement lip at the water's edge, I peered down at my shadowy reflection and searched my own eyes, probing my features with countless questions and concerns. Everything was quiet but the gentle murmur of a handful of passing tourists. I waited, listening to my heartbeat as it began to slow.

And then... a small spark caught my eye. It was only a flicker, a tiny ignition that was striking against the darkness that enveloped the Mall. I stared at it, fascinated. Over the course of the next few minutes, the number of sparks grew until I found myself surrounded by the warm glow of fireflies. A deep smile worked its way across my features as I soaked in the beauty of such a remarkable scene. Looking before me, I took in the sight of the illuminated capitol building, a symbol of a government of, by, and for the people of the United States.

It felt as if the uncertain fog clouding my mind suddenly dispelled into a peaceful and sharp clarity. As the fireflies danced around the clear pool, a personal spark within me was not only ignited; it roared. I became overwhelmed with the truth that it is a privilege and responsibility to  have been born upon American soil, a nation free and under God. Our nation is far from perfect, but it is based upon principles that are eternal truths. Surrounded by shining monuments honoring figures such as Jefferson, Washington, and Lincoln, I felt as if I was keeping extraordinary company. I was a simple intern doing little more than giving tours, completing research, and attending capitol briefings. However, I was participating in the process of policy making and learning within the halls of government what it means to be an American. I knew the various learning curves and all the challenges I had faced that summer had been, and would be, more than worth it.

This experience of wandering the Washington Mall was pure magic for me. It gave me a night full of peace, renewed purpose, and the gift of so much beauty.

Another particularly memorable magic hour occurred when I was fourteen years old. I was in the Peruvian Andes, completing a 50 mile trek over the Inca trail with my dad. One night, curled up in my sleeping bag, I seemed unable to quiet my mind. I kept seeing the incredible magnitude of the mountains we had wound through, the kind, coffee-colored, and wrinkled faces of the Peruvian peoples, and the brilliant color of the golden long grasses in the warm sunlight. It seemed too much for my young mind to absorb.

Finally giving up on the idea of immediate sleep, I felt around till I located my heavy jacket and wind breaker beanie. I then tied up my clunky hiking boots and quietly unzipped the tent flap. I remember letting out an audible gasp at the sight that awaited me. Above the vast and desolate valley where we camped was a brilliant sky teeming with the most exquisite stars I had ever seen.

I had seen stars up in the mountains of Utah. I have seen stars in the countryside of Virginia. I have NEVER seen the exquisite symphony of the heavens so beautifully orchestrated in my entire life. In sum... it blew my mind.

Creeping out of the entryway, I put my hands in my pockets and walked around the circle of red tents, my neck straining as I traced the swirls and clusters of the cosmos.

...what is man that thou art mindful of him?

The landscape was so dark and so unbelievably open that I felt absolutely alone with the night, with no one to see me but God. I replayed memories of previous days in my head, focusing on particular events that had left a striking impact on my world perception. I remembered showing a group of young boys my ipod and the brilliance of their liquid chocolate eyes when they heard sounds coming through the bud in their ear. I remembered watching a girl younger than me carrying her baby sister in a swaddle of brilliant colors and marveling at her responsibility.



These people taught me so much.

When my eyes finally grew tired, I headed back to my tent. Pausing at the opening, I looked once more at the stars with a giddy smile tracing my lips. I felt as if I had shared a  secret with the night. I felt as if the Peruvian Andes had been kind enough to peel back its curtains and show me one of its most precious wonders.

Never forget to wander. Never forget to venture. I know I never can nor will.