Good or Bad?

I spent the better part of Memorial Day in the woods. I did something that would have been unthinkable not long ago: I hiked five miles, winding my way up and down the cliffy banks of the Kentucky River. “Good!” you might be tempted to say. I should perhaps confess that I was compelled to lie down in the middle of the trail and reoxygenate my brain more than once. “Bad?”

Labels like “good” and “bad” somehow didn’t fit during these hours in the woods. Stinging nettle grew in great mounds along the banks of the river, barbed leaves rising and falling like waves in the wind so that the nettle—not the river—pulled my thoughts to the ocean. Stinging nettle: good or bad?  

I dropped my trekking pole while taking a picture at the beginning of my hike, and the handle landed in a bed of poison ivy. I clutched the pole by its middle until I found the river, where I slid and scrambled down rocks and sand, determined to reach the water’s edge and wash the handle. I did so, squatting just above the river, stretching the pole downward, swirling it in the slow-rolling water. There were racoon tracks by my feet, but no human footprints. Presumably, most hikers would need a pretty compelling reason to navigate the nettle, rocks, and sandy slopes that separate them from the water. But when you arrive, the obstacles are quickly forgotten. I stripped out of my compression socks and settled barefoot into the sand, where I stayed quite contentedly for over an hour. Poison ivy: good or bad?  

Across the river, limestone cliffs jutted upward from the green water. A half dozen vultures soared along the palisades, casting graceful shadows across the rocks. If they had been eagles or hawks, anyone watching would have declared them beautiful—the way they perched, dropped, soared, allowing the wind to roll and carry them. Vultures: good or bad?

Were the headache and dizziness that sometimes forced me to lie down good (they helped me recognize my limits) or bad (oh no, I have limits)? Is the fact that I’ve lived with long Covid for over a year good (look how much I’ve grown and how many wonderful people I’ve met) or bad (look at how much I’ve lost and suffered)?

Maybe “good” and “bad” simply aren’t the words to use here. A quote from Einstein comes to mind: “There are two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.”

Stinging nettle, poison ivy, vultures, Covid-19: miraculous. Forests, rivers, sand between your toes, your capacity to adapt and heal: miraculous.

What would it be like, just for one day, to release labels like ‘good’ and ‘bad’? What would it be like to live this day as if everything is a miracle?