As I think back on Alaska, I am so aware of the power of the wilderness. There are certainly micro-climates, it’s far more moderate in Ketchikan than in any of the other cities we visited, but the landscape is still very similar. To the untrained eye, at least, the trees look similar, the rock is similar, the water chilly and the sky open and endless. It would certainly take me a while to adjust to the balance of light and dark… and the rain and the dark in Ketchikan could get tiresome, but then it would be what was normal… and we all adjust eventually. I have friends in Portland who are so glad when the rain finally returns after three long days of sun…

But the wilderness is so present and powerful here. The towns look so vulnerable. And Nature isn’t far, when bear and moose can be seen dashing or plodding through the edges (really, if you move to Ketchikan, DON’T leave your garbage in an unlocked can!) Left on its own, the land is balanced and peaceful. A Native woman said to me when I was asking her one question or another: “But that’s the thing, you see, we never believed the land belonged to us, we believe it belonged to the animals.”

That would certainly change how you would live on it, wouldn’t it. That would bring you to peace with what is. So how do we, in our plodding steps toward Peace, recognize and lean on the Natural to encourage and empower us?

We’ll have to keep thinking… (it’s a particularly challenging thought for me today as I not only struggle with a breakdown in technology and wander the streets of NYC with dear friends.)

As fascinating as bustling little Ketchikan is, I confess I find it interruptive. I’ve loved sailing along the between the mountains where the only life beyond the boat is wild.

There are people running around taking advantage of all the boat has to offer but there are many more simply sitting in wonder, contemplating the beauty. A couple we met has taken this cruise many times, simply for the Peace of it. They don’t get off the boat. They do eat in the dining room, at a table for eight, so they can get everyone’s stories, but mostly, they sit on deck and enjoy.

So along comes Ketchikan (and it’s a weird thing, but it feels as if you’re the stable one and all this bounty is coming to you rather than your coming to it!) and the green is interrupted by this (for today at least) sunny city. It’s famous for it’s rainfall — with over 12-15 feet falling every year. It’s famous for its seafood; it’s the marine capital of the world. Sadly, I had no crab in Ketchikan, although i had a whole lot of salmon all week long.

And then, it is home to the largest collection of standing Totem Poles in the world with many artists doing both reconstruction and new construction. I loved the visit. But, oh, I loved Mother Nature’s green.

The Peace in Alaska is overwhelming. There are very few “distractibles.”  In a land twice the size of Texas there are no more people than in a mid-sized city somewhere else. Only 700,000… and something like 30,000 eagles. More eagles in Juneau than people.

In the Inside Passage there is only endless Earth, Sky and Water. Even on a ship, steaming along at a decent speed, there’s not a lot you hear. And what you see is majestic.

On the trip, I’d made the decision to disconnect. I didn’t have wi-fi, I didn’t have my computer, I didn’t have a camera. I had to buy a little notebook, but I barely wrote in it. I just sat and inhaled the Peace, storing it up, filling my lungs, my eyes, and my soul with the fresh, raw beauty of Nature at her most profoundly elemental.

Now my job is to remember that, to be inspired by that and to translate that to a world that longs and leans toward Peace.