Hello! I’m finishing up this post from the foot of the Tetons 🏔
I’m on the road - traveling through Wyoming, British Columbia, and eventually arriving in the Sierra in California. I’m skiing almost every day, most of it in the backcountry. For me, ski touring is rapture, and while I’m on this trip, I wanted to share some thoughts on transforming movement through the wild into prayer.
If this perspective inspires you, check out VIVIFY.
It’s my wilderness-based coaching program built around an epic and transformative weeklong backpacking trip in the High Sierra. It’s built for adventurous spirits who are ready to push their comfort zone into a new chapter of their lives.
The High Sierra expedition and entire VIVIFY program are steeped in prayerful movement. If you resonate, reach out.
It was dead calm.
I took my last few steps to the summit of Long’s Peak, the tallest mountain in Rocky Mountain National Park, and felt my heart rate slowly coming down.
The snow-capped peaks of the Rockies were laid out below me, and I couldn’t believe it was so still. RMNP is notoriously windy, and at 14,200’ it’s usually howling.
I knew this crisp spring day was special. I knelt down and began to sing. No words, just notes, melodies, an expression of my gratitude and devotion.
As I made a maté, I buried a few leaves of the yerba in the snow as a small offering of recognition and reciprocity to the mountain.1
And after a few more minutes on the summit, I clicked into ski mode, pointed my tips down, and proceeded to have the single best ski run of my life.
To Be An Animal
We are animals, meant to move. Our bodies are designed to flow over stone, earth, and water, in relationship and communion with the ecosystems that surround us.
This simple, primal calling is universal to each of us, regardless of how capable we are of movement, or how we feel most called to move.
Together or in solitude, in bitter cold or in blazing heat, in peaceful wandering or exhaustive effort, our souls crave the regeneration and expansion that comes from immersion in natural landscapes.
This yearning is easy to see in our culture - especially here in Colorado. On a weekend, the trails are full of runners, the resorts are full of skiers, and the cliffs swarm with climbers.
Many of us love to move - but where does this motivation come from, and what is our intention?
I’ve touched on this question before in my piece on Ritual vs. Discipline - are we moving because we feel we should? Because we need exercise? Because we want to look a certain way?
Or, are we moving in the sheer joy of movement, as an offering back to the rest of life?
Are we moving as an expression of Viriditas, life’s natural enthusiasm for life?
Are we moving as a prayer?
Mars, Lung-Gom-Pa, and Trance
“Nirgal began to feel the loose joy of running, the boulder ballet of it, the rapid crossing of long stretches of land under his own power. Also the rhythmic breathing, the bounce of his air tank on his back, the trancelike state that he had learned over the years…The way he could fly over rocks was exhilarating, a kind of rapture….he ran as a pilgrim, half worshiper, half god.”
— Green Mars (Mars Trilogy Book 2) by Kim Stanley Robinson
I’ve re-read this chapter more than any other, in any book, ever.
It’s a section of the Mars Trilogy which describes the experience of extreme long-distance running on a partially terraformed Mars.
The gravity on Mars is 40% that of Earth, and this novel contemplates that native Martians who grow up in that gravity are on average about 7.5 feet tall.
They are Martians, not Earthlings, and their familiarity and comfort on their home planet expresses most clearly in their love for running, a movement on Mars that is much easier and more graceful than it is on Earth.
Imagine something closer to leaping, floating, gently touching down and rebounding - rhythmically, for hours, across a virgin and wild landscape.
I get goosebumps.
To deepen and make spiritual sense of this newfound rapturous form of movement, the Martians revive a mythical Tibetan Buddhist practice, Lung-Gom-Pa.
They become pilgrims on the land, with an entire subculture springing up dedicated to running almost continuously around the equator.
They pray with their Martian bodies by moving across the Martian land.
On Earth, the history of Lung-Gom-Pa is shrouded in mystery, with few reliable sources. One of the few western descriptions records the following:
“I noticed, far away in front of us, a moving black spot which my field-glasses showed to be a man. I felt astonished. Meetings are not frequent in that region [Chang Thang in northern Tibet] … But as I continued to observe him through the glasses, I noticed that the man proceeded at an unusual gait and, especially, with an extraordinary swiftness … The man did not run. He seemed to lift himself from the ground, proceeding by leaps. It looked as if he had been endowed with the elasticity of a ball and rebounded each time his feet touched the ground.”
- Alexandra David-Neel, “Magic and Mystery in Tibet”, 1929
Regardless of the reliability or accuracy of these claims, there are those on our Earth right now expressing extreme devotion through extreme movement.
“Marathon Monks” in Japan complete astounding feats, including running two marathons per day for 100 days straight, in devotion to the sacred. Their bodies respond in ways that baffle physiologists, and I can only imagine the depth of their intimacy and connection with the mountain they circumambulate.
So why does the description of Martians running across Mars capture my imagination so deeply?
Certainly there is a seduction to the feeling of the movement - the dream of weightlessness, the allure of gliding across terrain with minimal effort (though this sounds a bit like powder skiing ❄️).
But I think there’s a deeper layer.
The practice of Lung-Gom-Pa on Mars is a bonding between Martian and Mars, between animal and landscape, between person and place.
This bonding is accessible to us, right here, on Earth.2
How can we move and pray as Earthlings, as human animals, across the landscapes of our planet?
Prayer and Awareness
In lieu of a complete answer to this question, I offer some practices to begin with as we turn our movement into prayer:
Honor Thresholds
My descent off Long’s Peak was so memorable partially because of the psychospiritual space I’d dropped into. I sang, I offered, I oriented towards gratitude. Yes, we timed the corn window perfectly, but I was also in a sacred frame of mind. This isn’t always the case for me when I step onto the trail.
Before you set out, take a moment to acknowledge the crossing of a threshold into a new space, both physically and mentally. Ask permission of the land, water, and/or beings that surround you to move through them. Take a moment to drop into your body. Notice the feeling-tone and dialogue going through your mind as you begin.
Equally important, as you finish, take time to give thanks to the land, water, and beings. Spend time to harvest the feelings, thoughts, experiences, memories that came to you, and let them drip like honey into your bloodstream. Let yourself be changed each time you go out into the world.
Vocalize
Use your voice to deepen into your reciprocity with the land. Bellow, sing, hum, yelp, howl or show your full-bodied participation in this moment in any other way you choose. Within this practice, don’t worry about words - just express yourself to the world in uninhibited, unformed sound.
“Enchanted Land” means “land that has been sung to”. What happens when you enchant the land around you?
Play with your awareness
As you move, cycle between centers of focus for your awareness: spend one minute paying close attention to how your muscles feel as they move, then the next minute noticing every detail you can about your breath, and the next minute the feelings on your skin. Then direct your awareness to the external world - what do you hear? What details do you see?
There are infinite ways to direct your rapturous attention to your experience - let yourself play with them!
Let Us Pray
So the next time you step outside, maybe for your Huberman-approved morning sun-in-the-eyes walk, take a moment to pause.
Recognize the opportunity for prayer, for remembering, for reconnection.
Remember who you are - an Earthling on Earth.
Pray with your feet, with your voice, and with your attention.
And notice what happens.
I didn’t grow up in an animist tradition. There are specific songs, protocols, and ways of being with this land that have evolved over generations, and I don’t know them. In my work with the Animas Valley Institute, I’ve grown a perspective that genuine, heartfelt offering, even if imperfect, is meaningful.
In the words of Josh Schrei of the Emerald: “I don’t know the right words, mother, but I’m calling, I’m trying….”
My next piece will likely be a deeper exploration of this - how we can learn more about being an ethical Earthling by learning from the Martians 🌎
So fun and rewarding to see you stepping into your leadership on these topics, my friend. Your message about movement and prayer resonates deeply and had me grinning. Then reading about the Martians brought me back to our time together in the high country last summer! 😉 Enjoy those incredible Tetons.