– Letting Little Things Make Me Happy –

---

Maybe I told you this story…  about living at the B-C Ranch deep in the Idaho backcountry.

For three years, I served as the full-time caretaker of the ranch. It was a wilderness getaway for a wealthy Washington farmer & empty most of the time, but it was too nice a place to leave unguarded. You could drive to it from Challis on a Forest Service Road, but had to bounce along thirty miles of bad backcountry road and cross two mountain passes to get to the B-C. No one went there without a reason, and it was totally inaccessible in winter except by snowmobile. Nevertheless, the owner was willing to pay someone to live there year-round and take care of the stock, fencing, and facilities. It was a nice setup and good situation for a modern-day hermit like me.

Happy to Be Alone

It was a period of time in my life when I was happy to be alone. A few years earlier, I’d gone through one of life’s lows and had to make a new start. Facing it, I used the opportunity to attempt something I’d long daydreamed of doing. Why not? I had nothing to lose and might never get the chance to experience a truly remote sabbatical again. Living alone as a real-life mountain man became an obsession when I really needed one and I pushed it to the limits.

I lived the life I imagined… walking across mountain ranges alone from one side of the Rockies to the other… living winters in primitive conditions, isolated in the Frank Church Wilderness. Even when living civilized in the cabin at the B-C, I’d see only a handful of people for a couple of hours when I went to Challis to resupply. I stayed alone in the backcountry and remained detached from the outside world.

Ascetic Adventure

Can you imagine? For the first fifty years of my life, I traveled the world working with people, talking with people, getting busier as a family man and entrepreneur. I spent my time entirely with people… mostly responding to needs outside my own. I spent weekends with my family in the suburbs and traveled weekly to work in the big cities. And after twenty years immersed in society, I was alone with only Mother Nature to keep me company. Not another living soul for miles in any direction. No cars, no machines of any kind. No lights except in the sky. I listened to the river and the weather, and watched animals for entertainment. Mostly, I liked to track the creatures that lived around me in the Frank Church Wilderness.

I didn’t see them very often, but I could see where they’d been. The prints and trails they left behind were like stories for those who could read them. Stories rich in mystery and drama, sometimes even tales of horror and tragedy. A good tracker observed daily, collected data over time, and used his imagination to interpret and visualize the signs he discovered.

I spent a lot of my time in the wilderness sitting and quietly watching. Not hiding. I couldn’t hide; the animals knew I was there and generally kept their distance. They did not become more trusting of me over time, nor did they become more friendly… except that one crazy white butterfly that came by whenever I went down to the creek.

Familiar Friend

He was an animated little dude full of good energy, always bouncing through the air. It was hard to get a good look at him because he was never still, never flew in a straight line. About the time my eyes focused on him flitting through my view, he jerked up or down or otherwise changed direction… flashing randomly through the willows that fenced the waterway, darting out and back in for cover from the birds.

There was something familiar about him and I caught myself smiling the third or fourth time he appeared. I started anticipating his arrival when I went down to the creek and was comforted every time he showed up. He felt like a friend and began to follow me on my travels… accompany me on my hikes.

I explored my corner of the Frank Church Wilderness in every season during the years I lived at the B-C. From the bottom of drainages up ridges to summits, on horseback and afoot… I had the luxury of time and spent it lavishly while living that dream. Weeks alone without any human contact and only my thoughts to keep me company. I slept out under the open sky.

One morning while propped up against a tree enjoying coffee, I was surprised by the white butterfly… surprised because I was miles from the ranch. I was halfway through a week-long trek, and he bounced through purple fireweed in the deadfall on the creek like he’d been following me the whole time. An uplifting friend without an agenda, he came to remind me that life is as good as my attitude at the moment. And that was not the only time; he seemed to follow me wherever I traveled.

Surprising Sidekick

Imagine my surprise when I moved to Poland and he appeared. I was only there a few days when, while walking the dog by the farm fields around our home, the white butterfly flitted, bobbed, and attracted my attention with his trademark moves.

I laughed out loud. Spontaneous and unbridled joy. I couldn’t believe he followed me to all the way across the ocean. Maybe not the same butterfly body but the same spirit, for sure. I felt it and I walked the rest of the way home feeling amazed and blessed indeed.

I don’t have to be in a bad mood to appreciate him; a good mood gets even better when he appears. But I am reminded by his presence to remember and appreciate all the micro-magic in my life.

Attitude Adjustment

Don’t you find that many ‘bad days’ are not bad days at all? So often, it’s just a few bad minutes that we allow to ruin our mood… then they multiply and dominate our day. It’s easy to get in a bad mood but hard to get out of one.

When I get sour, an invisible wall goes up and I need something to knock it down… something that will help me forget the bad thing that is bothering me and recapture my good vibe. And that white butterfly has become a spiritual reset button for me. He makes me smile, and I’ve learned to let myself appreciate it.

---