Big Hike

“A 20-mile hike into the woods requires a 20-mile hike back out of the woods.”

I saw this quote a few days ago and it rang true in so many facets of life – i.e. weight loss, a lifetime accumulation of stuff, having a big family, and the true story of when our eldest son first moved up to New Jersey and decided to ride his manual, 3-speed bike across a bridge, over the river to explore New York City. It didn’t dawn on him until much later that evening, after he had exhausted himself exploring the Big Apple, that there would be an equally long ride back. (we don’t call him our “Absent-Minded Professor” for nothing)

A lifetime friend of mine recently brought up her fears and sadness about the thoughts of us all getting older and experiencing the ailments and losses that getting older often brings. I immediately got defensive and I reminded her that it would not be unusual now, for all of us to live well into our nineties which means we have close to half our lives still to live. “We’re not old!” I practically screamed. And as 50-somethings, we’re really not that old, but we are definitely on the 20-mile hike back out of the woods.

The hike back out is always a little bit easier. You have a better idea of what to expect. You get to revisit areas on your trail, and you get to bypass rocky terrain that you now know exists. You’re more experienced. You usually have better footing on the hike back out of the woods. You’ve already eaten and drank up most of your sustenance, and so you now have a lighter load. You understand more what you no longer need to have with you on the journey back. The hike back out is less about preparation and anticipation, and more so, about truly savoring and taking in what you may have missed on the hurried, restless hike in. You tend to take the hike out of the woods, a little less rushed. You’re a little more tired, but in a good way. You’ve proven to yourself that you have the mettle it takes to make this journey. There’s a saying that people often say with a resigned sigh, “It’s all downhill from here!” but I’m not sure that’s a bad thing. When I am on a real hike up a hill or a mountain or an endless staircase, I am always extremely relieved that the way back is “all downhill.” It’s easier. I breathe easier. I feel nimbler and I’m still basking that I made the proud, adventurous climb in and up. Mostly though, on my journey, I’m grateful that so many of the people whom I travelled into the woods with, are still with me on our way back out. And I am so grateful for the new ones whom I am still meeting along the way, and of course, I am always grateful for the ones who always loyally travel with me, and guide me, as I deeply sense their presence, in the spirits of the winds and the birds and the trees.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.