This month’s inspiration station is The Shenandoah National Park. The government sums the park up well on their website: “Gazing across the horizon from the peaks of Shenandoah National Park it’s hard to believe you are just 75 miles from the bustle of our nation’s capital.” As you may know, a paved road takes you through the park from one end to the other. You can see fantastic views without leaving your car if that’s your preference. I always prefer to get into the woods and camp in a tent, sleep in a cabin, or hike around for a day.

A few weeks ago, I hiked to the top of the tallest peak in the Shenandoah National Park. The ascent takes you 700 feet up in a short period of time. On our way back down, we ran into two large bears. I threw my apple into the woods and waited. That apple was the one thing I could control. What else could be done? Running was out of the question since bears can run 35 mph.

I did think of my bear encounter when reading this man’s encounter with a whale:

“There’s something magical, something spiritual, at least for me, about being this close to a 50-foot sperm whale that chooses to tolerate you being there. Why? Because of some sort of affinity with other living things.”

When you see a bear that close—staring at you for what seems like hours—it gives you a different perspective on life. I stood 30 yards from the bear. The world was the bear, the fur, the waiting, the sweat, the hope none of the other people would do anything dumb. The six adult hikers staring at this bear were strangers yet dependent on one another not to enrage a wild animal. We waited. Our clothes became soaked in the 100-degree heat. Someone’s baby thankfully did not cry.

And the bear spared us. We were not as exciting as berries. Her baby had meandered up the mountain. The mother bear sniffed the air, paused, snacked, gazed at us, and walked away.

And so, did I have an epiphany? Will I get all “Araby, Araby” on you? Not really. I’m still figuring out how to put words around the experience.