The Coronavirus has honed our list of needs for our lives. We all have bumped up against the brick wall of ‘what do I need in life’ versus ‘what do I want in life.’ Especially in the early days of the virus and perhaps in the winter yet to come, our narrowed vision from stay-home, work-at-home, order-from-home is a tumbling, moving, ever-changing kaleidoscope. What do we need? Toilet paper–yes, food–yes, hand sanitizer–yes–well, maybe–soap and water works, too. Do we need to eat out? No. Think of all the people who have learned or re-learned the simple pleasure of preparing daily food for loved ones!

After our brief time in Ely, we headed east on the Fernberg as the clouds gathered. We pulled off the road at Rookie Pond overlook—a beautiful view at any time of the year. It was a kaleidoscope of Fall colors—not in a narrow vision like the optical toy—but a panorama that circled around us, towered above us, and displayed below us.

Even as we flirted with raindrops, we took pictures and looked out over the water with the excitement of being in this wonderful place again and of the anticipation of our time together. The beaver lodge, expansive in size, enduring in longevity, reminded me of the constancy of certain things in Nature—every time over our thirteen years of coming up here, the beaver lodge has been here with a topping of new birch logs.

Two Trumpeter Swans swam and dipped their heads into the water in the beautiful landscape of their Rookie Pond home.

We arrived at KoWaKan, the wilderness camp of the United Methodist Conference. It had been the summer home for two of our kids over a span of six years or so. Staff, campers, and visitors have everything they need: a kitchen and dining area…

…cupboards protected with bear bars, though sometime in the last year a bear had tried to get into them, as evidenced by the torn-away wood and claw marks…

…a hallway of trees…

…to the bedrooms…

…and a short walk…

…to the bathroom.

There’s water, abundant and muscle-powered…

…and a fire for warmth, companionship, and a morning cup of coffee or tea.

It has been eleven years since Emily has worked here or been here—she was excited to show this incredible place to her husband. Aaron knows this place like the back of his hand—both have walked the trails untold times, packed food and gear for countless trips into the Boundary Waters, and started innumerable fires, both here and on trail. For when one is ‘on trail’ in the Boundary Waters Wilderness Canoe Area, the ‘needs’ of a person are further reduced. The kitchen and dining room are around the fire, the cupboard is what one can carry in packs and bear barrels, the bedroom is a mat and sleeping bag on the floor of a tent, and the bathroom is an open-air latrine. Sometimes our list of ‘needs’ needs to be pared down for us in order to experience something out of the ordinary, something extraordinary.

Something extraordinary like waking with the early morning light, quickly pulling on clothes in the chilly air, starting a fire and heating the water for a cup of good tea, and hearing the trilling chatter of an eagle across the lake. I think she was welcoming us to her home—she talked for a long while.

When is the last time you looked through a kaleidoscope of tumbling colors? The optical toy was created over 200 years ago by Scottish inventor David Brewster. The word ‘kaleidoscope’ is from the ancient Greek words meaning ‘observation of beautiful forms.’ The wilderness is an expanse of beautiful forms. It is infinitely enduring, constant in its cycles of life. What do we really need in life? What literally sustains us? What gives us ‘life‘—that feeling of joy, contentment, energy, and deep spiritual satisfaction? When the trappings of our lives are stripped away, we come face-to-face with ourselves. It gives us an opportunity to discern what’s truly important for our very own hearts and souls. May the wilderness of your heart be an expanse of beautiful forms.