Ruminator

Photo by: Tim Bindner Photography This week I rode an emotional rollercoaster, and I felt like I had no safety belt to keep my securely locked in place.  The week began with yet another bill that seems for the last month we have been hemorrhaging money for state taxes, many home repairs, and car repairs.  My son’s truck had work being done and the price ended up $200+ more than expected.  After dropping my car off for a simple oil leak and picking his truck up I was soon informed that my simple oil leak also involved a radiator leak and a bill of $1700+.  I needed an outlet and the best place for that is the trails. Friday started well.  I met a friend for lunch.  This friend recently retired from my employer and though I didn’t know him that well I always enjoyed talking to him and felt we had some things in common with music.  I tend to gravitate toward older people (especially men), always welcoming their knowledge and experience of life.  This was no exception.  Our lunch meeting c

Photo by: Tim Bindner Photography In what appears to be a weekly privilege I once again found myself hiking alone at Mt. St. Francis.  I hiked over four miles and reached my step goal of 10,000 before 9:30 am. I arrived in the parking lot and backed into my normal spot.  As is always the case there were no others there as the empty parking lot displayed.  I hopped out of my car, grabbed my gear and camera and looked in the direction of the lake.  I spotted the upper half of a deer who was eyeing me closely.  I gently closed my car door and used the adjacent structure as cover as I made my way toward the gate.  Today I chose a different focal length lens thus knowing any shot I got of the deer would be from a distance.  As I peered around the corner I saw three sets of faces staring back at me, standing frozen like statues.  I raised my camera took this shot, then headed down the path toward the lake.  I took two steps on the path and they decided I was too close and darted into the nea

Photo by: Tim Bindner Photography My three dearest friends are not humans but have provided me as much if not more than any human can.  These three consist of music, hiking, and photography.  As you have found you the way to my site or are receiving emails on my blog posts, you already know how much I take pure joy in hiking as well as the photography that goes hand in hand with it.  Music however or I have been an older and much more intimate friend. A friend recently posted on his blog about his love of music which got me thinking about how so integral music has become to my existence I felt it warranted a post of its own.  By the way here is that  post. My earliest memories as a child involved music.  As a child, I had severe asthma and bad allergies.  Asthma is when part of the lung is destroyed and thus resulting in permanent loss of part of my lung.  That with bouts of allergies, I was sentenced to many long days and nights in my room in the air conditioning.  I also spent way to

Photo by: Tim Bindner Photography My pain is my purpose.  I heard that today at a seminar at work from a life coach named Vitale Brown.  She was referencing a 10-year addiction to Adderall, but I felt that statement applied to my life as well. My parents were both counselors in the school system and used to dealing with kids and their issues.  As a child, I was taught to analyze every thought, emotion, and feeling.  I was also taught that I had to express and explain how I feel.  As counselors, they would show me how to analyze these issues and would guide them.  Many times I was told why certain thoughts, emotions are feeling were wrong.  I was often compared to other kids (still happens today) and was shown how they had handled things better.  As part of my makeup, I was encouraged to focus on both my strength of consistency and harmony.  It was not until my late thirties before I understood those strengths and why they were so ingrained in me.  Consistency is what it appears to be.

Photo by: Tim Bindner Photography My hike today felt like an old pair of jeans.  You know the ones that have been worn and washed so much they feel like a second skin.  My 3.89-mile trek felt very comforting and was much needed. As often happens on my early Sunday morning hike, I was alone.  I longed and yearned for the solitude that I know I often get on these early Sunday morning hikes.  As the rest of the world slept in or recovered from late-night celebrations on St. Patrick’s Day, I honestly felt I had the world to myself, or at least this small area to myself.  Within hours the world would awaken and the hustle and bustle of life would begin, but I took great solace in knowing I had some time to myself. As I headed down the concrete path toward the lake I could not help but think of some lyrics of a Pink Floyd song called Empty Spaces.  “What shall we use to fill the empty spaces, where we used to talk?“  I reflected on my most recent hike, and also on how so many people feel tha

Photo by: Tim Bindner Photography Today’s journey was a return to the Adventure Hiking Trail that I first explored a few weeks ago.  Today’s hike was much different, however.  Before Mark and I tackled the trail alone and right after heavy rains, today I was with a bigger group and the trail was much drier. Normally I utilize my time on the trail for meditation, introspection, and self-reflecting.  I was with a different crowd today.  The hike was very peaceful and I always enjoy being in nature, but I had a different type of relaxation than I normally have.  Today I spent time sharing small talk with others and listening to conversations echoing throughout the woods. The section of the AHT we traveled today provided its visual wonders, including some streams, remnants of an old house, the shelter at the top of the hill, and of course the overlook.  Signs of spring were everywhere, and I knew it was not far away.  Many comments on how great this would look in the summer, were heard oft

Photo by: Tim Bindner Photography Once again I started on a short journey alone.  I came back with many other things. I went to my favorite place Mt. St. Francis, or at least my most familiar place.  I arrived in the parking lot and not a single car was there.  The sense of isolation was very calming.  Today’s trek was going to be a little tougher than normal.  I was sore from a 6+ mile hike the day before, the time changed last night (lost an hour), and the normal time of sunrise was now different. As I headed down the paved path toward the lake I could feel a cool breeze caressing my face.  The wind felt different today.  Not sure if it was because I was a bit sore and tired, but the wind made me ache in someplace deeper than my bones.  Likely touching something old in my soul back from the dawn of man, telling me to move or die.  As winter has not yet lost her grip I felt a sense of what old settlers or native tribes must have felt.  The need to keep moving, to look for a better pla

Photo by: Tim Bindner Photography This newfound passion of mine has ruined my life.  I find most of the time and thoughts are thinking of hitting the trails, and the moment I leave them I yearn to be back there again.  Hiking is my drug and I am addicted. Today I hit a new trail that I have never been on before.  The hike was a planned hike at Deam Lake on the Knobstone Trail.  The entire trail is over 25 miles in length, but today we did six miles (3 out and 3 back). I arrived in the parking lot only a few feet from the trailhead.  There was a cool breeze in the air and a fine mist that accompanied it.  While waiting for the others to arrive I started down the trail a bit to measure the conditions.  I knew today’s trek would be with a larger group than I am used to, and getting to meet them would be a priority of mine on this day.  I decided that a few moments of solitude would help me prepare for the hike ahead.  As I stood there only hearing the sound of my beating heart, I could he

Photo by: Tim Bindner Photography Today’s hike was a solitary one.  I knew I had some time before I got into the throws of the day.  I needed to close out my weekend for a second hike. As I headed from my home the sun had barely begun to show the lights of the day.  On my trip to Mt. St. Francis (MSF), I passed a few churches and watched as people scurried from their vehicles, dressed so neatly to go worship GOD in a traditional, ritualistic fashion.  I was also headed out to my church.  Mine was also in God’s house, but I didn’t follow the rituals that I grew up in the Catholic Church.  I have my own time, place and method for communicating and worshiping him, and that is where I was headed. Arriving in the parking lot of MSF I saw that today I was not alone.  There was another vehicle there but no-one on site.  Grabbed my gear from the car, locked it up and off I headed.  I quickly noticed that some fresh gravel had been poured on the initial trail leading to the large water tower in

Photo by: Tim Bindner Photography This had been a stressful week for me at work as well as in my personal life.  Today I needed a retreat, and it came in the form of Hemlock Cliffs.  As I once heard in the first Jurassic Park movie “Life, finds a way”, I today learned why I should apply that quote on how to live my life. I arrived at the gravel parking lot and slowly backed my car into an available slot.  I turned the car off and climbed out.  I retrieved my backpack, camera and ensured my keys were in my pocket then shut the door of my car.  As I waited for the rest of my party to arrive I gazed into the eyes of the forest.  A cool breeze hit the back of my neck and a shiver ran down my spine.  The breeze was not one of winter but of the ever-approaching spring season that will soon be upon us.  I knew today I would not be alone so I took a few moments to soak up the surroundings alone and begin to declutter my brain from all the things that have stressed me out this week. It was not