About Time on Mt. Eisenhower

How differently would you act today with your Future Self in mind?

Mt. Washington is the high peak in the distance about 3.5 miles and 2000 more vertical feet of climbing away from Eisenhower, along the spectacular Crawford Path. The Crawford Path, the oldest continually used trail in America was built in 1819 by innkeepers, Ethan and Abel Crawford, for their guests.

Our daughter and son were home for a summer visit; we used the opportunity to engage in our favorite family activity, hiking.

Twenty summers ago, as a family, we hiked for the first time Mt. Eisenhower in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. “White Mountain National Forest sees more visitors annually than Yosemite and Yellowstone national parks combined.”

Eisenhower is in the rugged Presidential range. On all trails in the Presidential range, just before you come out of the scrub, a stop sign gets your attention. The warning is not hyperbole. Hurricane-force winds blow an average of 110 days per year; and above treeline, in bad weather, the trail is easily lost. “Mount Washington holds the Northern Hemisphere and Western Hemisphere records for directly measured surface wind speed — 231 mph, on April 12, 1934.”

On our 2002 hike day, our children were the youngest hikers on the trail. The sign did not frighten them because of their preparation and experience. They had began hiking at age three, and we always included them in studying trails and assessing risks for the hikes we planned. Each new trail stretched their abilities (and ours) as we hiked the 48 peaks above 4000 ft. in the White Mountains.

Hiking is still a significant part of our family life; and this past week, we paused for a photo at the same sign.

Shortly after the sign, we broke above treeline.

In 2002, the wind was gale force at 40 to 50 mph. We took shelter behind a small cliff for a while before making the final exposed ascent to the summit of Mt. Eisenhower.

This past week the weather was far more benign. There were no young children to monitor, yet I was more concerned. My thinking was making a big deal about my declining agility as I scrambled up jagged rocks. My attention alternated between my tedious thinking and thoughts of gratitude to be able to witness the incredible beauty. My experience changed moment by moment based on my decision as to which mode of thinking I gave my attention to.

Millions of items of the outward order are present to my senses which never properly enter into my experience. Why? Because they have no interest for me. My experience is what I agree to attend to.

—William James

The next day we were out again as a family hiking another high peak, Mt Osceola, in the southern range of the Whites. It was Saturday morning and by 6:45 the parking lot was full; cars were already lining the side of the road. The trail was jammed with hikers, some of whom had risen at 3 am to make a day trip up from the Boston area.

On this day, the hikers' median age was 25-30. It didn’t bother me that most young hikers blew past me. I was thrilled to be hiking challenging peaks on back-to-back days.

You see what you’re looking for. You see what you care about. What you focus on expands.

—Benjamin Hardy

In the delightful comedy About Time, Domhnall Gleeson plays Tim, a young man who comes from a family whose male members can time travel.

Initially, Tim uses time travel to return to particular days to intentionally alter events. Later in the movie, Tim’s father, played by Bill Nighy, advises Tim to use time travel only to relive the same day, not by altering events, but by being more present. Tim’s father counsels, “Live every day again almost exactly the same, the first time with all the tensions and worries that stop us from noticing how sweet the world can be, but the second time noticing.”

As Tim follows his father’s advice, he notices how often he is not present for ordinary events of life. Commuting to work and buying his lunch are colorless events. Tim is a lawyer; even a victory in the courtroom is a muted experience when he is not mentally present.

Tim learns to bring peace to life’s moments rather than expecting life to bring peace to him. He stops time traveling. Instead, Tim explains, “I just try to live every day as if I’ve deliberately come back to this one day. To enjoy it as if it was the final day of my extraordinary, ordinary life.”

Each part of your life — today’s behavior, tomorrow’s behavior, next week’s behavior, next month’s behavior— can be examined in the context of the whole, of what really matters most to you. By keeping that end clearly in mind, you can make certain that whatever you do on any particular day does not violate the criteria you have defined as supremely important, and that each day of your life contributes in a meaningful way to the vision you have of your life as a whole.

--Stephen R. Covey

Benjamin Hardy puts it this way: “Without a sense of purpose and mission, I fail to appreciate what’s right in front of me. I fail to value the infinite worth of my current life, simply because I’m disconnected.”

He continues, “Being connected [to the present] allows you to better comprehend and appreciate the goldmine of this moment, right here. Seeing your current life through the eyes of your Future Self, you see opportunities you were previously blind to. If you stay connected with your Future Self, you’ll value your present.

The morning after we hiked Eisenhower, I read these questions by Hardy:

If your Future Self—20 years from now—had a conversation with you, what would they say?

How would your Future Self view your current situation?

How differently would you act with your Future Self in mind?

In twenty years, the odds are small that I will still be able to hike peaks like Eisenhower. Had I read Hardy before hiking Mt. Eisenhower this past week, his questions would have helped me shift my attention away from my mental noise.

You can do a simple “about time” experiment. Look at an old family photograph. As you look at the photograph, drop your story. Dropping your story, you might experience an overwhelming feeling of Love. Love was the real backdrop of the moment captured in the photo.

Some days, the cloud cover generated by the-story-of-me is dense; but like the sun, Love is always there, giving its gifts. Why wait for the future to open the gifts of Love available today?