Gratitude Revisited

The other day I found myself re-reading all of my posts from my hike.  One, in particular, stood out.  It was the very first one I wrote from the Trail itself.  I said that the overwhelming feeling on the Trail was gratitude.  I detailed several things that had happened for why I was so grateful.

Funny thing.  They were such LITTLE things.  Gloves. An offer of a slackpack (one that didn't pan out).  Finding shelter in snow.  Even now, they don't really SEEM like little things.  At the time, they were HUGE! Gloves may have been the difference between further nerve damage or not.  That's a lifetime consequence... not so little.  Being able to work at Len Foote Inn... my hiking partner, Yeti, was fighting illness and exhaustion.  Having that place could have been the difference between her continuing her hike or not even before she got to the actual Trail.  Or worse.  Again, not little.  

On the flip side, I could have been ungrateful about all the cold and snow we started in.  The fact that I needed to be concerned about nerve damage or hypothermia - well, that's a bummer.  Shouldn't I be focused on THOSE things instead?  But no, instead, I was grateful for the small things people could offer us to help.

It's hard to keep that focus here in frigid Wisconsin.  Believe me, I have tried.  But I find that I tend to focus more on what I do NOT have instead of the small things that are being provided.  I miss hiking.  I miss people.  I miss warmth and sunshine.  I miss not waking up to a window-full of the neighbor's house.  I miss the smell of my backpack straps (I know, that's disturbing).

I have spurts of gratefulness.  That's actually what prompted this blogpost.  I wanted to write about what I was so grateful for, even here in condo-land: my housemates, daily coffee, the freshly fallen snow, the fact that it was warmer on Sunday so I could hike with new people, the bread recipe my sister shared, lunch with my other sister.  

But, I must admit, it's harder here.  Not impossible.  And certainly something I need to continue working on.  But I'm not there yet.  I'm not your always-smiling-silver-lining-pointing kind of gal.  There's a lot more to take for granted here, and thus to complain about.  On the Trail, there were so few needs, but they were so apparent that it was easy to see when those needs got met.  Here my needs are less tangible, more complex, more spread out in several directions.  I don't always see them being met.  Or I take it for granted.  

It's strange how I can be so grateful one millisecond, and the next (and sometimes emotions can occupy the same mind at the same time), I'm all cynical-genX-snark.  Not sure how to cure myself of that other than to keep pointing my way back to gratitude when I see I'm not there.  

Yup, I know.  That's not much resolution for a blog post.  No lesson learned or something achieved.  But, that's what I got for you at the moment.  You're welcome ;-)

New Year's Resolutions

Well, 2013 is over.  There may yet be a few stragglers hoping to finish up their 2013 thru-hike of the AT - picking up the last sections they may have skipped over; however, for the most part, that is over.  The class of 2013 NOBO's is a thing of the past only to be remembered now in photos, new hikes, and reunions with fellow hiker trash.

There are many lessons I learned in 2013.  Many were ones I thought I knew and had to relearn, or learn at a new depth of understanding.  Some, I'm sure, will be forgotten and need to be relearned in upcoming years and hikes.

I learned that it's OK to just be me.  I don't HAVE to produce, achieve, or be special.  In fact, no one really cares if I am.  Those who do care, care about me just by me being me.

I learned a job is not where my security is.  Yes, I need money.  Yes, a job will achieve money.  But a job doesn't define me, it doesn't give me meaning or purpose, and no one really cares what I do, as long as I'm not a burden on them.  Those who do care, care about my being able to have a well-lived life with the comforts and work that is best for me.

Here.  Climb this.  For fun.

I learned that I like to work.  I used to think I was lazy because I hated the idea of going to a 9-5er.  I used to think I must not have a good work ethic or maybe I'm just hiding my "mooching" side of me because I wanted to do something other than have a "traditional" job.  I learned that I really LIKE to work.  I like to make things that help someone else.  I don't enjoy not having something to put my hand to.  I'm not lazy.  I just don't have to settle for the same work that most do.

I learned that I'm OK being by myself.  I had known that before, but I learned a new depth to that.  I learned how much I love being around people.  I knew that before too, but seeing this in a different capacity gave a new layer for me to noodle around.  I've learned that I need time to be by myself AND time to be social.  Newsflash:  I'm a social butterfly who likes vast amounts of time to myself.  Weird.  If you can figure out how to make that work in real life, you let me know.

So many more lessons, but I won't bore you.  But let's take a moment to look forward.  2014.  Now what?

Not to sound overly dramatic, but I think that I would be selling my soul if I were to go back to the "way things were" before last March.  If I just got myself a job, I wouldn't be honoring the lessons learned on the Trail.  I'd devalue both myself AND the Trail.  Sure, if my reserves get low enough, I know that I will need to just take whatever I need to for income.  Because I'm not a mooch, and I'm not lazy.  But... if I have the ability now to live on very little so that I can slowly create the income that I need to move toward the next path for my life, then... that's what I will need to do.

I'm trying to fit in to the mold I lived in before.  And everyone is noticing that that isn't working overly well.  A new mold needs to be built, and that takes time.  So, this mold of where I go, what I do with my free time, who I hang out with, what volunteer choices I make, etc etc.  All of those things are under scrutiny.   That's not to say I do not love and cherish the people and events from the previous mold.  Or that I won't somehow incorporate some of them into the new mold.

The new me emerging.

But things are a-changin'.  Out with the old.  In with the new.  Cherish the past. Look to the future.  Live in the present.

I'll keep you posted, but I think it's safe to assume things may be a-changin' on this posting as well.  The winds of change may be pointing toward another blog before too long.  I hope you will continue to follow my adventure.

Time Waits for No Man

I've been back in Wisconsin for just over three months.  And it shows today.  It's snowing like crazy.  It's been a cold winter so far.  Not pleasant to be outside in.  This weather makes it difficult to recall those hot, humid days on the Trail.  It seems like a far away dream.

And yet, yes, it definitely happened.  How can I tell?  Well, for starters, I am still mostly unemployed.  Three months home and I still don't have "a job".  Or at least some means of meeting the monthly bills.  Today is Sunday.  Nine months ago I would have been joining in with the millions of Americans who dread Mondays.  Today?  Not so much.  In fact, I'm looking forward to doing the project a friend offered to pay me for while the snow comes down.  It's a really good day to be indoors working on the computer.  Yeah, weekends don't mean a whole lot at the moment.

I've been home three months.  One year ago, I was just starting to test out some gear.  I had the first of 5 sleeping bags that I'd try before I'd finally settle on the right one for the trek.  My room was getting the first signs that it was inhabited by an outdoorsy gearhead - three different sleeping pads, random carabeeners, guylines, and tent stakes littered the floor.  Someone offered to let me use their dehydrator.

Wow, it was a year ago that I gave up my ferrets, knowing I couldn't let someone else take care of a geriatric ferret AND a young ferret for six month in my absence.  The other night, I actually found myself listening for the scratching sounds my ferrets used to make while I was trying to sleep.  It seems that now I'm always listening for sounds of "others" in my room at night - whether it be fellow hikers or ferrets.

A week and half until the end of 2013.  The class of 2013 Thru-Hikers is about to be relegated to a place in the past so that the new class can emerge and start their hike.  Hikers are starting to make plans on Facebook to go to Trail Days in Damascus in May - a reliving of their glory days from this year.  Heck, I even joke that if I'm still unemployed in March, maybe I'll just hit the Trail again.  Why not?  I got 220 miles to finish up.  Might as well attempt the whole 2200 miles over.  Or maybe I'll just start from Damascus... Or...

... Maybe I'll find a job.  Maybe I'll settle back into this north-midwest lifestyle.  Maybe I'll swing that one leg out of the (not so distant) past so I can have both feet firmly planted in the present.  Perhaps even with a step toward the future.  There is something future I would like to move toward.  Just not sure how to get there.  The Trail is definitely not blazed for the destination I have in mind.  So, today, as I look out at the winter wonderland out my window, I'm amazed at the passage of time and all that's occurred in the past year, and what could possibly occur in the next.  And I wonder how I will keep up.

Just need to go for a walk

I still walk a lot.  I walk back and forth from church.  There's not much in the way of jobs within walking distance, but I have given that much thought.  I've walked to the library, to friend's houses, to the community center.  I find it more difficult to walk without some sort of destination, so if I can find even a simple reason to go somewhere that I can walk to, I'm fairly apt to make that happen.

Why do I walk?  Well, it gives me time to think.  My mind clears so much when walking.  I talk to God. I talk to myself. I have imaginary conversations with other people.  You know, all stuff I did while walking all day, every day.  There was a LOT of talking while walking.

When I'm walking, the world seems a friendlier place.  It doesn't seem so daunting.  Goals aren't so far-fetched as to be called only dreams.  Ideas seem more possible.  God's voice seems more obvious.  My voice sounds a lot less like God's (don't ask me to explain that one!).

When I walk, I can come up with a hundred blog post ideas, I get motivated to write a book, excited to work toward another hike or another dream.  When I walk, my shrinking bank account doesn't seem so needy, the healthcare act deadline isn't so imminent, and my resume even seems SLIGHTLY impressive (Hire me; I hiked mountains).

When I walk, I'm glad to be where I am.

Then I sit in front of this computer with all one hundred blog post ideas and attempt to type...
...
    ....
          ....

Ahem.  Yup.  Where are those ideas?  My mind gets all muddled with everything in front of me, and I think... "I used to be so busy!  How can I get so befuddled by the relatively few things now?"

I just need to go for a walk.

Putting words to a feeling, or something like that

I bet you had started to think I was never going to post on this blog again, didn't you?  Well, to be honest, I have thought about this almost daily, but something always gets in the way.  It's not for lack of time, mind you.  I have plenty of that, still being mostly unemployed.  It's also not because I don't constantly think about the Trail.  I do.  It's always just below the surface of my thoughts.  Constantly processing, but I have such a hard time putting words to the thoughts.  This is a phenomenon that is new to me; I can usually verbalize.

I'm a changed person.  In some ways I'm more reserved, quieter.  In others, I'm much more liberated or liberal.  I miss the camaraderie of the Trail, but I also know full well that I never really fit in there either.  I miss the simplicity of always knowing I just need to hike North, but I also realize that can't realistically continue forever.  Nor do I want that to always be my goal.  However, I have no idea where to go from here.  It doesn't have to be North.  But where?  Literally and figuratively.

I feel the pressure to find income.  From myself, not so much from others (yet).   I'm not completely out of my reserves, but I would like to find a stream of revenue so I could start saving up again for... something.  However, I'm pulled between finding "a job" to get money vs. finding something meaningful that will allow me to also pay bills.  And also save up for... something.  

I find myself pulling away from the familiar.  I'm finding that what was comfortable 8 months ago is no longer. The familiar is often UN-comfortable.  Things just don't seem as "real."  I find myself thinking "how did I get here?"  Or more accurately, "how did I get BACK here?"  

I think I've always been a free spirit, a bit of a nomad.  Most of life has taught me that being free-spirited is a bit selfish and not what a "good girl" should be.  But, I also do have a fierce loyalty and a need for deep connection and roots.  Can contentment be found where freedom and connection occupy the same place and hold equal value?  Can I become truly content with myself?  Does that fly in the face of me wanting to overcome my damned self-sufficiency?  And does that mean that I will still be alone?

What worked in the past isn't working these days... to distract myself, to find meaning, to bring fulfillment or achievement.  So, I need to find what will work.  Yes, yes, I know the simple answer is God.  Don't worry.  That's still firmly in place.  I know that God will provide.  I know He's here with me now.  That makes me smile.  And I'm not WORRIED about the future.  I just can't see it, can't see my next move, my next blaze.  I can't go back, and don't know how to move forward.  So, I continue to process.  

It's also a comfort to stalk fellow hikers on Facebook and see what they are up to.  Many have made HUGE changes to their lives - moved across country, radically changed career paths, or some haven't gone home yet and are still traveling about.  Many seem to be in this "in between" place like me.  They are back in familiar surroundings, but it feels foreign.  They feel a bit lost now that they are no longer wandering.  There's a lot of "missing the Trail."  I think many are also processing, but having difficulty verbalizing.  If I don't have a deep connection with most of my fellow hikers, at least I know I'm not alone in still feeling a bit displaced, comfortable in my own skin but uncomfortable in the clothes I had put on before.  

I've been trying to put words around these feelings for almost a month.  I haven't done it justice.  I've been trying to find the end of this tunnel, so I don't leave anyone reading this at a loss, or feeling like you should be doing something different, or offended or whatever.  That is DEFINITELY NOT what this post is about!  This is my journey.  And although I'm floundering at the moment, there's not a moment I would trade out for something else.  I don't regret a moment.  I don't enjoy being down, but I know there's an up.  After all, the Trail ALWAYS goes up, right?  I just gotta keep climbing.  The Trail is there, and He always provides.

The next adventure

Everyone who hiked the Trail is now looking for what to do next.  We're all feeling many of the same things:

1.  We look at all the stuff we had in storage for 6 months and we wonder, "what the heck do I need all this for?"  So we begin the purge.

2.  We look at the four walls of the house or apartment and we think, "This seems a bit... constricting."  So some of us continue with the hiking/camping, or we get in a car and continue traveling, or we pick up and move somewhere completely different (perhaps close to the Trail, but definitely out of the city).  Some of us just kavetch about it on Facebook, not quite prepared to pick up and move or continue traveling.  Some of us just need the paycheck.

3. We all fear losing the... whatever it was... that we gained from the Trail.  We fear becoming "normal" as if normal equates to boring (which it doesn't have to).  So we say, "What now?  Does it really come down to going back to the way things were?"

So, I got rid of some stuff.  I kavetch on Facebook.  I am procrastinating getting a job because I just don't want to... be normal.  I don't want to get stuck in the routine, predictable life I had before.  Yeah, it was safe.  I'm tired of being safe.

I also know that things CAN'T be the same as they were on the Trail.  Why?  Well, I don't have a good answer to that exactly.  I am a bit of an idealist.  But I know, realistically, it can't.  So how do I adapt back to normal without giving in to boredom and safety?  How do I bring the lessons from the Trail to my life as I'm getting to know it now?

Huh.  Not sure.  Yeah, yeah, you were hoping for a better answer.  Sorry, don't have one.  But here's a theory.  I was intentionally homeless in the woods for 6 months.  Being homeless in a city is an entirely different monster.  Perhaps it would be good to learn what that is like.  No, not for 6 months.  But, perhaps my next adventure will be a few days in a shelter, a few days at food pantries and dumpsters, a few days on the bus system and walking around with my backpack - experiencing the stares and non-looks from passersby who assume I'm... whatever people assume when they see people without ready access to hot, running water.  One thing I learned on the Trail is that any of us are really just 2 days of non-showering and non-laundry from really looking homeless. And all the consequences for looking that way to other people.

I think it will be an experience akin to the spiritual transformation of the Trail.  And then, perhaps, I will be ready to live with stuff, in four walls that I pay rent for, and I won't kavetch about normal or being safe.  Because maybe, right now, I'm taking normal and safety for granted.

What I am more sure of is that I need to experience life in other people's shoes.  What is normal for others, but not me?  Let's try walking for a bit like that.

Next step - write a book

It's amazing to me how many people ask me if I'm going to write a book about my time on the Trail.  Maybe it's because everyone is just used to people getting their 15 seconds of fame, or because everyone seems to want to write about their own life - as if it's really important and riveting to the average American (really, people are way to narcissistic, but that's just MY opinion, in case YOU were interested in my opinion.  Hmmm.)

And maybe walking in the woods for 6 months really is quite riveting.

But then I wised up just a bit.  I started asking all these people who asked me if I was going to write a book if they had kept up with my blog.  Surprisingly, many of them said, well, um, no.  They had gotten a little behind in all that.  Often, a little behind meant they hadn't read the blog since the first or second post.

And yet they want me to write a book.  For what?  I'd be really surprised if they'd take the trouble to buy a book if they couldn't read the blog.  Don't get me wrong, if you are reading this, you aren't one of those people.  Obviously.  And maybe YOU want me to write a book too.

So, there are two trains of thought in my head at the moment.  Non-philosophically, the good news is, yes, I want to write a book.  No, it's NOT just a tale of my Trail.  It would be a fictionalized story based on my life - both on and off Trail.  It's a story I've wanted to write for years but had never found the right voice for until I met some folks on the Trail.  It's not just another person's experience on the AT; there are plenty of books out there already for that.  This would be, hopefully, a story about identity, redemption, emotional healing.  Yeah, all those feel good, sappy things that women write about for other women to read.  Sorry, guys.

However, philosophically, there's another thought.  It's the liberating idea that no one is REALLY watching.  Often, I get caught up in the "other" person's world.  What do they think of me?  Will they approve?  Is what I'm doing the "absolute" best thing?  Should I be doing something else?

If no one is really watching... then, what does it matter?  Who am I truly accountable to?  If no one really notices or cares, then why should I be so concerned about their opinion of me?

And who is watching?  Well, some of you.  Otherwise, I really am writing this blog for my own self-aggrandizement (is that a word?).  But, really, the only Person who REALLY cares is God.  And there's a real freedom in that.  I don't have all the judgement to worry about.  I don't have all the other opinions.  If someone watching doesn't like it, well... oh well.  They don't like it.  Probably, I don't like everything they do either. No problem.  I have the freedom to live self-responsibly.  I like that.  It's not freedom to act selfishly.  But rather, to act as I see fit with others. Because no really cares about me (or my story) as much as me or God.  And I don't care as much about anyone else as they or God care about them.

So, for those still reading this blog: THANK YOU.  I really appreciate you continuing on my journey with me.  There are things about walking in the woods I'd like to share with you.  For anyone else, well, you may have the opportunity to buy a book someday.

Go hike your own hike!