In June 2022, the fires of New Mexico had been burning for months, and the total acreage was nearing 1,000,000 acres burned. Just two months! How could so much devastation be happening?
I hadn’t been handling it well. With the grief of so much loss of forest and the fear and uncertainty of the evacuation of our town, I’d been struggling with terrible gut issues and my anxiety was out of hand.
This story coincides with a second dark story, one involving my now year-and-a-half struggle with post traumatic symptoms that left me dealing with near constant anxiety, strong overtakings by fear, and the occasional full blown panic attack.
Combined, I was a bit of a mess, yet I had been climbing up along my own healing path and knew there were even brighter days ahead.
I went out East to find more answers as I spent a week-long immersive retreat learning about trauma, anxiety, and depression within the context that is Yoga Therapy (there is much more on this to come!).
I went out East to find something more, for my own self, as the Adirondacks called to me, promises of adventure, and possible hope for my own healing.
In this post, I speak to some of the themes from the trip.
Cheers, Katie
I left my beloved lands, the ones consumed by drought and fire, flickering with not but the faintest wave of hope.
I left my lands and took a trip
to a different world.
One where the water flows,
everywhere,
Flowing freely down the trails, through the creeks, accumulating in great rivers, to be temporarily contained in grand lakes.
Water – it was all around me!
We became well-acquainted as I took step after slippery step through a new-to-me mountain range,
Soaking in the immense beauty of the land, and learning the perils of water as I slipped and slid through mud, across wet roots, and down slick slabs.
As I took step after step through this mighty mountain range, flowing so freely with water, our friendship was sealed, and I asked, humbly:
Can I take some of you back with me?
—
My flight home was challenging,
As I became re-acquainted with that deep pit – the one that had forged itself a home deep in my abdomen, a constant and often painful reminder of these trying times.
It’s the one I had magically let go of as I experienced each day out East, freeing myself of despair as I was set free to dance through the rugged terrain.
That deep pit let out a tiny roar once again, as I entered back over my beloved lands, witnessing the lands turn brown, and that thick wave of smoke set in.
I flew through that smoke for hours, until at last, my beloved Sangre de Cristos came into view, the same damn plume shooting high up into the air.
Here to greet me.
I felt that pit of grief and despair all the way home, until I went to sleep, woke up, and remembered:
I had brought back my dear friend, water.
The monsoons have arrived!
As they often do, they arrived in full force here at the end of June, a wave of water each day for a short period of time. They come with dark clouds and loud rumbles and drench the ground.
The smell of New Mexico after a monsoon awakens my tender heart once again, bringing me back to summer days filled with joy.
With it I find hope, that at least, for now, the fires may cease to burn, and that we here in the Southwest may be able to return to the trails and deepen that connection with our dear Mother Earth.
Of course, that’s where I’ll be as I continue to immerse myself in the mountains, testing my limits, learning from her ferociousness, and dancing in the immense beauty of it all.
About my trip out East
It didn’t take me long to get acquainted with water, but that deep friendship had to be earned as I crossed mountain top after mountain top.
13 peaks in total! A lucky number 🙂
I’ll admit, I thought I would cross more than the 60 something miles I ended up covering, but I was stunned to find that the Adirondacks are as rugged as they are beautiful.
I had to earn each mile as I crossed the rough and wet ground, learning to embrace wet and muddy feet, feeling okay with an endless swat of bugs and wiping spider webs off my face.
Yep, it was brutal! Still, with each step, I felt a field of safety that I haven’t felt in quite some time now – a release of an overwhelming wave that has kept me stuck in fear for far too long. It’s a wave of fear that has kept me from doing my favorite thing on this planet – adventuring up mountains, scrambling up and down technical climbs, dancing on the edge of what is truly dangerous and what I know I’m physically capable of getting myself through.
Out East, I was able learn more about what has been going on with me, and to experience what it’s like to let it go – to feel like my old self, one who isn’t taken down by an overactive nervous system each day.
Ah, but there will be plenty of time to speak of those lessons in greater depth in the future.
For now, my plan is to stay focused on these last weeks of training before my big event comes up next month, and to seek out as much joy as possible as I head off to the big mountains of Colorado to further test myself and soak in the grand beauty of The Rocky Mountains.
Below images in order – 1: Trail along Avalanche Lake; 2: Muddy and gnarled roots – at least on this section there wasn’t flowing water!; 3: Falling on my ass on my first descent as I learned how slick granite slabs are; 4: Mmmmm; 5 and 6: Wet and steep slabs that I somehow managed to descend 7: The aftermath of sliding out on a muddy hillside while my ankle got caught in some roots
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