It is because he is thus free from striving that therefore no one in the world is able to strive with him.
- Lao-Tse, Tao Te Ching 
Sometimes I feel like hiding from the world. The Pacific Northwest corner I call home has been veiled in smoke from long-burning fires in California, Montana and B.C. for much of the summer. Every morning, I check an air quality app just to see if it’s safe to spend the day outside. Then there’s the news. From natural disasters to equally inhospitable political climates, the news leaves me informed but depressed. Looking around, the planet feels like it’s suffering, and at times I feel that way, too. How about you?
It’s easy to feel overwhelmed by forces beyond our immediate, individual control—surrounded by battles that seem impossible to win. It makes sense, wanting to retreat.
What I propose is reframing it not as retreating from, but retreating to: to a place blissfully free of overcommitted schedules, overextended energies, and constant media attention. A place where we can put ourselves back together after our nerve-racking world has shaken us apart. A place of solace, after having hitched our hearts to the things we thought would keep us buoyed in the storm of life—our health, our family, plans to buy a home or travel—only to be battered in the turbulent waters anyway, and to lose one or more of the things we were banking on. A place where the stress in our lives won’t overtax our nervous systems, or hide the joys that fill the spaces between our real and imagined crises. When we’re laser-focused on what’s hard, it’s difficult to see the good. And none of us can afford that.
Retreating to means finding your own space to experience the calm that returns our hearts, minds and bodies to equilibrium. It can mean literally escaping for a few days to a cabin in the woods, a shack on a remote shore, or a private “do not disturb” room in our own house—all of which can help us retreat to that quiet place in ourselves. Reading a book when there’s work to be done. Taking a slow, lavender-scented bath and staying in for the night instead of a quick shower before bolting out the door. Trying something slower, simpler, even if it feels boring at first.
When I spent a month in China with my husband a few years ago, we learned about the Taoist concept and spiritual practice of wu wei. Literally translated as “no action” or “without effort,” it’s perhaps best understood as “effortless action” in which one moves through life in a natural way, without attempting to control or force a situation. One becomes fluid like water, and just as yielding and adaptive. A passage from Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Ching, or The Book of the Way and of Virtue, uses the metaphor of water to express the concept:
The highest good is like water.
Water gives life to the ten thousand things and does not strive.
It flows in places men reject and so is like the Tao. 
The concept of doing through non-striving has been written about for millennia, as attested by the Tao Te Ching. I myself was introduced to wu wei in China in terms of tai chi. Originally conceived as a martial art and still practiced as such, it’s now especially known across the world for its slow, fluid movements that provide exercise as well as physical calming and mental clarity. It’s a practice that walks the middle path, where good health lies.
Movement and exercise are necessary for health, but pushing ourselves to the extreme—as I used to do as a professional long-distance mountain biker—can be hard on and even damaging to our bodies (just ask my arthritis-ridden left shoulder). It sounds like an extreme example, but how many of us aren’t currently preoccupied with some pain or stressor or worry that’s taking a physical and mental toll? Are we at war with our bodies, our neighbors, our coworkers? Perhaps it’s a sign that we need to hit the reset button, and practicing non-striving can do that.
Whether we are suffering with an ailment, anxiety or the general exhaustion of keeping the machine of our lives running, we can retreat to that still place in us where resilience dwells. Sometimes when we stop trying so hard, we return to ourselves. Things get easier. And better.
Where do you go and what do you do to find stillness? If it's hard to find the calm within, escaping to a quiet place for the weekend can be a good first step. Here are some of my favorite retreats in the Pacific Northwest:
Locharie Resort, Lake Quinault
Shi Shi Beach, Neah Bay
Doe Bay Resort, Orcas Island
Snowgrass Lodge, Leavenworth
Chatter Creek Campground
 Lao-Tse, Tao Te Ching, Tr. James Legge (BN Publishing, 2007). Viewable here.
 Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching, trans. By Gia-Fu Feng and Jane English (New York: Vintage Books, 1972) chapter 8, 1-3. I also like this very different translation from Derek Lin’s Tao Te Ching: Annotated and Explained (SkyLight Paths; 1st edition, 2006).
Photos: Top: J.M.W. Turner, Snow Storm: Hannibal and his Army Crossing the Alps, 1812; Second: Personal photo of the Naerofjord in Gudvangen, Norway; Third: Personal photo of Wedge Mountain, Leavenworth, WA.
How spending time in Alpine Lakes Wilderness can awaken awe and lead to health benefits and a stronger community.
And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,
Forebode not any severing of our loves!
-William Wordsworth, Ode: Intimations of Immortality
He hears the song of nature; he has transcended his humanity, you know, and reassociated himself with the powers of nature, which are the powers of our life, from which our mind removes us.
-Joseph Campbell, The Hero’s Journey
We’re in a stolen world, with no other human creatures in sight. The sun is setting on Dragontail Peak, the rays turning its broad face a pinkish-gold and all below it to shadow. In front of us, Colchuck Lake, a deep aquamarine during the day, has darkened to slate, though it still reflects the gilded mountain above. Behind us, the larch trees and backlit valley ridge enclose what will be our borrowed home for several days. A light wind is dancing with the trees, rippling waves, and kissing our faces.
Colchuck Lake shimmers beside the gateway to the famed Enchantments Basin in Washington’s Alpine Lakes Wilderness. The way to reach it is via the Stuart Lake trailhead, just a short drive from the Bavarian-style mountain town of Leavenworth. The hike demands a mere 4 miles and 2,300 feet of elevation gain to reach an alpine paradise, and what reward for such little labor.
We are among the few remaining here after an afternoon filled with day hikers. Some without camping permits turned back hours ago. Enchantment Area Permits (obtained through annual and day-of lotteries) are required to camp here overnight. Others have continued up Aasgard Pass beside the Dragontail to reach the Core Enchantment Zone before dark. But we have made our home here at Colchuck Lake, content to bask in the golden hour, when the light transforms every known thing into something magical. And, come nightfall, we’ll have other lucky stars to count.
The wilderness draws many into its fold, and its startling beauty is reason enough. But there’s something singular about the scene--the fleeting sunset, the remote peak with its living glow--that makes this moment seem more significant than the one before. A bit of its radiance remains in our soul, like lingering twilight.
When we immerse ourselves in nature, it can alter our perception of time and place, ushering in a heightened sense of the world. And the deepest shifts may issue from feelings of awe. Being “awestruck” can feel like a flash of wonder that expands the world before your eyes, shrinking you in its vastness. You can feel deeply humbled, but at the same time as if you’ve never felt so alive.
Awe is a profound emotion that’s hard to pin down, for within its elusive and ineffable nature lies its power, pointing to something greater than what we can fathom or name. Still, researchers endeavor to study it, and some have documented the capacity of awe to increase “prosocial tendencies,” or altruistic behaviors that benefit other people or society.
One research study, published in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology (2015) synthesized five experimental evidence studies to document how inducing awe in test subjects, including placing them in an inspiring nature setting, resulted in increased tendencies toward generosity and ethicality, and a diminished emphasis on the self. In other words, awe helped them care a little more about others’ needs and less about their own.
The researchers concluded that awe “serves a vital social function. By diminishing the emphasis on the individual self, awe may encourage people to forego strict self-interest to improve the welfare of others” (897).
Awe realigns us with each other and our community. It inspires our service, and it serves us in return: there’s plenty of evidence to suggest that serving others can lead to feelings of happiness and wellbeing. Probably because it helps us develop a sense of meaning and purpose in life.
For those of us already living our purpose (or following our bliss, as Joseph Campbell might say), seeking awe-inspiring experiences in nature may affirm our path and connection with the world. And for those of us still finding our way, nature can be our guide and teacher, as Wordsworth movingly avowed in his poetry.
There are so many reasons to seek nature: to reduce stress, improve mood, even minimize pain. The Japanese have a term, Shinrin-yoku—loosely translated as “forest bathing”—for spending time under the living canopy as a source of healing and preventive health care. But perhaps awe itself is the holy grail of nature experiences, an elusive feeling ever worth the pursuit, and so miraculous in its ability to inspire. When we find ourselves in nature, we also may find ourselves in wonder, marveling at a vastness beyond the world we know, discovering how good it is to feel so small before its grand immensity.
Want a little more awe in your life? More time in the “meadows, hills and groves," spellbound by sunsets or bathing in forests? You might find what you are looking for in the Alpine Lakes Wilderness near Leavenworth. Here are a few links to learn more:
Visit Alpine Lakes Wilderness
Hike the Enchantments
Discover Leavenworth, WA
Stay at Snowgrass Lodge
It’s almost summertime, what are you looking forward to?
We’re looking forward to a mix of adventure and relaxation: nature walks and also more strenuous hikes to refreshing alpine lakes that launch from Snowgrass' very own Icicle Road (we're thinking Colchuck Lake and Eightmile Lake), followed by intimate gatherings and some late afternoon lounging in Snowgrass' backyard. The stunning views of Wedge Mountain are a great reminder of all the mountain adventures just around the corner.
June and July are great months to visit Leavenworth. There’s always something going on around town (it seems like there's always a Wine Walk or wine tasting), and cultural events are a welcome balance to this outdoor paradise. From the Leavenworth International Accordion Celebration (June 21-24) to the Leavenworth Summer Theater, which kicks off in July with three different offerings (The Sound of Music, My Fair Lady & Little Women), there are fun things to do and discover in Leavenworth.
See you this summer!
There’s still snow in the mountains, but some of the hikes that start in Leavenworth are already snow-free, offering stunning views of the valley. Here are three fun trails you can enjoy right now:
1. Tumwater Pipeline Trail
Just about a mile from Snowgrass Lodge is the trailhead to this scenic river hike that parallels Highway 2. Enjoy the sights and sounds of the rushing water below, and if you head out soon, you’ll notice buds on the tree branches and tiny flowers springing up on the trail. It’s a quick out-and-back on relatively flat terrain, making it a great choice for groups or for trail running. Learn more about the Pipeline Trail.
2. Icicle Ridge Trail
Just a half-mile from Snowgrass, this trail takes a steeper climb up to the ridgeline, but it's well-worth the effort. Enjoy a fitness outing and 360-views of the mountain range and L-town. Make plans to visit soon, because the wildflowers are about to pop. Learn more about Icicle Ridge Trail.
3. Ski Hill Trail
This trail can be hiked in a longer loop, but if you just want to climb up the steep hill and back down again, take the trail to your left before making your way up the countless (but manageable) switchbacks to a sweet window viewpoint overlooking Leavenworth. Learn more about Ski Hill Trail.
We’ve had quite a lot of snow falling in Leavenworth today, and at Snowgrass Lodge. Kids flocked to the sledding hill, cars drove more carefully (but slipped around anyway), and people relished the sudden change, and its beautiful inconveniences.
The seasonal brrrr always makes you appreciate that warm chai or rich latte indulgence just a little more. The turning-wet snow may end up a raining mess, whether it's falling from the sky or slopping around in the streets, but it also also brings out those brightly-colored umbrellas and the foresighted people who wield them--people who show us that all types of snow can be fun if you bring your umbrella next time...
We did know winter was coming. (We always know winter is coming.) But when it inevitably does, it’s still somehow a surprise.
So here’s to surprises that kick us out of our usual ways of doing things, six inches of snow at a time.
Leavenworth is ready for the holidays! Come walk among the bright, colorful lights downtown and create your own picture-perfect postcard.
#livingpostcard #leavenworthlights #snowgrasslodge
There's a fun hike you can do just a half mile from Snowgrass Lodge. Just cross the Icicle Bridge next to Snowgrass (and take a moment to enjoy the stunning view of Wedge Mountain over the Wenatchee River), then walk a half mile south along Icicle Road to a trail that’s great for afternoon exercise and pretty views.
As you walk along Icicle Road you'll see the Icicle Trail sign on the right. Turn right and jog left to get to the trailhead. You’ll find yourself on a narrow (and at certain times steep) trail that switchbacks its way for three miles (with an 1800 foot gain) up to the ridgeline overlooking Leavenworth.
The Ponderosa pines will keep you company as you rise steadily up the trail. Views of the Wenatchee and Icicle Rivers bending around cozy houses and golden fields make this hike feel like an escape to nature without truly leaving home. In springtime, the trail’s open spaces are dotted with wildflowers. Whatever season calls you out, happy hiking!
We recently held a “Friendsgiving” gathering at Snowgrass Lodge. Part work party, part visioning exercise and part social gathering with pre-Thanksgiving yummy food, it was an occasion to bring friends together and bring to Snowgrass our dreams, our labor, and our laughter.
We did a lot together: dug ditches, built fencing for our heat pumps, picked paint colors and painted walls, cleaned and organized storage spaces, set up Christmas lights and decorations, cut back shrubs and limbed trees, replaced routers and fixed sound systems, replaced light bulbs and air filters, labeled light switches and repaired faucets, rearranged furniture, took photos, cooked delicious meals, staged fun performances, danced and laughed.
We cannot express in this blog post (or really in words at all) how grateful we feel in witnessing the generosity of our friends. They put their own love and work into Snowgrass, and now that’s how the lodge feels to us these days—full of love and care.
Our vision for Snowgrass was to create a place where people could gather together and connect with each other in a beautiful environment. And last weekend, our friends were a big part of that creation process. Thank you so much for lending your time, your toil and your skills, and for bringing such life to Snowgrass.
There's nothing like a view like this to lift up your spirt and feel at home in the world. This was taken yesterday in downtown Leavenworth, just a mile from Snowgrass.
It's October 31st--Halloween--and people in fun little costumes have caught my eye throughout the day. A friend wearing a jester's hat. A woman adorned with a playful crown. A barista with bat wings. Today is the day we honor transformation--trying on the new--a process that can be fearsome and delightful, challenging and rewarding. It seems a fitting time to reflect on all the work we've been putting into our new property to make it even more hospitable to guests. We've been making our way down our to-do list, and while our vision for the future of our property is just beginning to unfold, it feels good to take a moment and appreciate where we've come to. We hope everyone experiences such a beautiful moment today.
Angela is a writer who loves sharing people’s stories. Hernan is a designer who creates uplifting experiences. Snowgrass Lodge is the mountain sanctuary they share with others.