Wisdom from a Goat
Hiking via haikus

My first hike was short – no backpack but walking sticks. Brava, sang the goat.
Don’t be discouraged. The piano took practice: from scales to Mozart.
It is the same here. Small steps lead to scaled canyons. Curb your impatience.
Be brave and be kind. The abyss won’t pull you down; ankles can strengthen.
©Jenine Bsharah Baines 2020
I lived in Los Angeles for 32 years. Then I tried Dallas for three. But I was so homesick that I begged my partner to try L.A. He agreed, if I would hike with him.
Instantly I agreed. I’m an avid nature lover and walker. Hiking would be a snap.
Famous last words.
Driving from Texas to California, we stopped at the Grand Canyon. OMG, astonishing, gorgeous. But, if I wasn’t at least a foot from the rim, I missed the beauty utterly; all I saw was myself toppling down…down…down…
However, I was eager to keep my word to my partner. Little did I realize three things:
1. Even on ‘easy’ hikes, paths can be narrow
2. Walking on paved surfaces with weak ankles is one thing; hiking on rocks that jut out at differing angles is hell. Every time I stumbled or lost my balance, my heart dropped even if I didn’t
3. Not to pick on my partner, but he’s a fricking gazelle
Over rocks the size of Stonehenge he leaps effortlessly. Fearlessly. Fast. (Gazelles can run up to 60 mph.) He’s a man on a mission — in this case, he was eager to see some waterfall or other.
Meanwhile my ankles were fussing: WTF are you doing taking us out on our virgin hike in THE GRAND CANYON?
They had a point.
“You go ahead,” I told my partner. “I’ll wait here on this rock.”
I like rocks. I like to do what poet John O’Donohue calls ‘drawing alongside’ them in his Blessing for One who is Exhausted. Which I absolutely was. Here’s the pertinent verse:
You have traveled too fast over false ground; Now your soul has come to take you back. Take refuge in your senses, open up To all the small miracles you rushed through. Become inclined to watch the way of rain When it falls slow and free. Imitate the habit of twilight, Taking time to open the well of color That fostered the brightness of day. Draw alongside the silence of stone Until its calmness can claim you.
Perfect words to recite while waiting on a rock for what felt like forever for the sound of my partner’s footsteps. ‘False ground’ indeed: every step I took felt false. Not only like the ground would fail to hold me upright but like I was there under false pretenses. ME? A hiker? Get real.
At some point, something rustled behind me. Enter stage left my pal, Mr. Goat. I was entranced.
I forgot to be pissed at my partner who appeared to have forgotten me…at my weak ankles…at my dumb-ass, scaredy cat hypocritical soul. Hypocritical because I had written so often about soaring, about the spiritual ‘hike.’ Yet, when push came to shove, I punted.
Fortunately our ‘easy’ hike included easy internet access. Goat, symbolism, I typed.
Imagine my shock when I read this on https://www.worldbirds.org/goat-symbolism/:
“The appearance of a goat spirit animal at a certain point is symbolic of NEW OPPORTUNITIES and GREATER HEIGHTS you can reach in life…The symbolism works as a motivation for an individual to believe in his/her potential and abilities.”
Am I now, two years later, an ace hiker?
No, I’ve been a bit of a slacker. But isn’t it interesting that, this past weekend, while my partner was hiking in King’s Canyon, I ‘happened’ upon a publication called Happy Hiker, which led me to revisit a hike of my own?
I think Mr. Goat and all you happy hikers out there are trying to tell me something.
Which is why this poem is a series of haikus. Small poems (5–7–5 syllables) to illustrate small steps forward.

Thank you, Øivind H. Solheim, for allowing me to join your publication. Thank you, Whitney Rose, for your support at Flicker and Flight & for alerting me to Happy Hiking.
Thank you, dear readers, for hiking with me today.
Another ‘coincidence’ — my bio photo and title. Yikes! (This shot was taken at Santa Anita Canyon!)





