Blog 3 - Downloadable Maps

A screenshot of the app AllTrails, tracking my route.

Hi:) It’s been a little while.

I’m using Blog 3 to speak on a recent acknowledgement towards my role as an explorer. Actually, the more fitting name might be “one who journeys” or “journeyer” because as I approach the 2-month mark of living in Canterbury as a YAGM, I’ve recognized multiple journeys I currently travel and more that have unexpectedly appeared. One journey explores my roll as a YAGM serving in the UK – feeling settled on the trail, traversing the hills and valleys at a rather fast pace. On the next, I find myself in the middle of an unfamiliar yet exciting wilderness, slowly discovering my relationship to my Creator – also known as my faith journey. Thankfully, I do not walk these trails alone. The picture above captures a journey I did trek alone, one that I feel fortunate to have had the opportunity to complete – a 26-mile walk through the Kent countryside from my home in Canterbury to the coastal town of Dover. A journey now completed that I will not soon forget. Walking the trail in these journeys, and many others known and unknown, is me – an explorer.

I chose the role "explorer" for a few reasons:

1) I didn’t actually think “journeyer” was a word;

2) Once I learned “journeyer” was a word, it didn't really roll off my tongue well;

3) On our departure day back in August, a few of us YAGMs walked the grounds on the location of our Orientation. As we explored and talked, Sam (currently serving in Senegal) asked me a simple yet thought-provoking question: “How would you describe yourself only using 6 words?” After gratefully hearing Sam share and taking a deep dive into myself, one of the descriptor words I confidently recognized was explorer. (I’ll wait to share the other 5 words over the next blogs…maybe).

4) According to Google, an explorer is “a person who explores a new or unfamiliar area.” That felt quite fitting well for where I am right now.

Journey 1: Canterbury to Dover

A footpath through a field outside of Canterbury

For those who do not know, one of my favorite hobbies and ways to feel refreshed is hiking. Weekend day trips to Mt. Herman with my family as a kid planted this seed that blossomed through countless adventures while living on my own in Gunnison, CO. When embarking on this year of service, I hoped there would be opportunities to discover and appreciate this unique, new land. I also knew that while I am an explorer to my core, the role that surpasses all others this year is ‘service volunteer.’ That’s why I am here. I made sure to intentionally and authentically foster relationships and cultivate a sense of place at my service site first; not as a prerequisite to ‘check off a list’ before I explore, but rather because I wanted to. And I am so glad I did!

After a month or so feeling present and passionate about the work I was doing, I felt an itch to explore (and that it was an appropriate time to relieve that itch). And it just so happened that a friend recently shared the tale of their walk from Canterbury to Dover. Let me tell you, I was intrigued! Dover, and the White Cliffs, were on my list of places to visit, yet I was originally planning on taking one of the many double-decker buses. So, when I heard that I could walk to my destination, I questioned him about the trail he walked and any tips about the journey. I learned the route is both the first section of the historic Via Francigena (the pilgrimage from Canterbury to Rome) and the last section of the North Downs Way (a long distance footpath of southern England). And that it took him and his friends 9 hours to complete.

As I do before all of my hikes, I looked up the trail on my handy-dandy AllTrails app where I track routes and download maps. I was relieved to find the exact trail my friend shared and I downloaded it right away – to come back to when a day of nice weather and a day off work overlapped. Thanks to the unpredictable and everchanging weather of Kent, it took some time for this overlapping to occur. But on Thursday 6 October, it did!

I began the journey just before 6am with my overpacked bag, downloaded map of the trail, and years of hiking experience under my belt, feeling confident that a smooth adventure was ahead of me. And it was very smooth indeed! I walked through seemingly endless ruins of recently harvested crops, around cemeteries sprinkled with ancient gravestones and overlooked by even older churches, within historic woods where trees almost beg you to listen to their endless stories, and atop scenic and internationally recognized cliffs. I was filled with awe and gratitude the entire time. A time, which like I said, that went very smooth other than a couple of blisters and sore legs the next day. Maybe a little too smooth – curtesy of the electronic map that distracted me from the beauty for over an hour of my six-hour trek (thank you Screen Time function on my phone offering me that statistic...)

I am torn (which I realize now is becoming a trend on these reviews…) on my feelings for this downloaded map. On one hand, of course I’m extremely grateful and fortunate to have something in my pocket that almost guarantees I never lose my way. A futuristic compass always pointing in the direction of the correct path. On the other hand, however, this map pulled my eyes from the surrounding nature many times. Especially considering the entire trail has well-marked, albeit infrequent, signposts guiding travelers of the Via Francigena to their destination. More times that I remember, I would look down at my phone to check the trail even if I just passed one of these arrow markers literally pointing along the only trail in front of me. Golly.

One of the countless aforementioned trail markers

Now, I might be unnecessarily forcing this silly complaint on a lovely day that otherwise lacked complaints, but I became intrigued – especially when I saw how much time I actually spent looking down at my phone! And while I whistled the “Concerning Hobbits” theme from Lord of the Rings or “The Battle” theme from the Narnia movie, my thoughts explored this behavior. I came to a two-part conclusion based around comfort – I found comfort in both knowing exactly where I was going or when the next turn would be and reluctantly, probably found some comfort looking at a familiar device in an unfamiliar country.

Nevertheless, this remarkable journey made this unfamiliar country a little more familiar.

One of the fields in the Kent countryside, speckled with faraway sheep

St. Mary's Anglican Church in Dover, Kent

A patch of trees amongst the Kent fields

The White Cliffs of Dover

Journey 2: The Faith Wilderness

First things first: If you’re thinking “Wait, Ryan? Talking about his faith. What? Who's this?”, don’t worry because I am thinking the same thing. While this is new to me, exploring my faith was/is a goal of mine for this year, and as supporters of my time here you get to read about it!

As I mentioned near the start of this blog, the paths I find myself on now and ahead of me in this faith journey are quite unfamiliar. For the first time in my life, I am asking myself questions and actively searching for answers. Questions such as ‘What do I believe?’, ‘What names for the Trinity do I connect most to?’, ‘Why do I feel connected on some days so much more than others?’, ‘Where do I find faith and comfort when things are hard?’, or ‘How do I incorporate my faith into my life compassionately and respectfully?’ Serving as a YAGM provides the unique opportunity to explore the unfamiliarity of these questions. Gosh, just typing them out I am hit by how daunting they seem! The good news is that I’m also excited – mostly because I, as selfish as it sounds, get to explore what my faith means to me.

This exploration is not unlike the exploring I did in my journey from Canterbury to Dover. I made this connection on the trail, right after I passed a marker which immediately was followed by a quick map check on my phone for the umpteenth time. I began to ponder the idea of “If my faith journey is like going on a hike, is faith trusting the markers or looking to my phone for confirmation?” The creative side of my brain went to town trying to continue this metaphor in an effort to better understand what I believe. I immediately returned to a session of YAGM Orientation on accompaniment, given by Paster Raphael Malpica Padilla (the ELCA’s Executive Director of Global Mission). In the discussion, he shared the idea that self-centeredness is a disease that plagues us humans. That we often look only to our own belly button in some sort of self-indulgent, reverential bow to ourselves. He continued on to offer what he believes to be the antidote: a piece of scripture titled “The Ministry of Reconciliation” (2 Corinthians 5: 11-21). In forming relationships with one another, walking alongside our neighbors (both local and global), and accompanying, God becomes a ‘chin-lifter’ so we look away from ourselves and out to those around us.

When reflecting on my faith journey thus far, I think I’ve spent too much time looking at my belly button – just as I looked down at my phone on my hike. I ignore or don’t trust the markers, the signposts that confirm I am moving in the right direction. Through Paster Raphael’s advice and through loving those around me, I hope my Creator may lift my chin as well and I may have the faith to venture through the wilderness. And to answer my original pondering, faith definitely feels more like looking up and trusting the markers rather than keeping my eyes down.

I’ve borrowed the term ‘Wilderness’ to describe one’s faith journey from the Evolving Faith Podcast – a podcast that shares sermons from an annual conferences, self-described as being “for the wounded, the misfits, and the spiritual refugees to let you know you are not alone. We’re here to cultivate love and hope in the wilderness.” Along with being a source of stories and theology to ponder, this podcast has been a definitely been a comfort for me on this spiritual trek (as another source of comfort, Lauren Daigle’s album “Look Up Child” has been on REPEAT – highly recommend.)

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SO…Downloadable Maps…

As a tool to give comfort to my mom that I don’t get lost when exploring: pretty darn great;

Considering they can be a distraction and symbol of my lack of trust to the markers guiding me:

8/10

(I would be very lost somewhere in the Rocky Mountains to this day without AllTrails, so that warrants some bonus points)

Thank you to all of you for your continued support – even if that’s just reading these blogs. You are greatly appreciated. I’m really glad you are joining me on these journeys. It feels nice that I’m not alone:)

From the Wilderness,

Ryan the Explorer

My favorite symbol of hope (AKA the sunrise)