"I guess I'm an alien",

  - a friend says to me on the phone while we discuss how when in grad school we would try to explain to our peers that our obtainment of higher education was really a goal to not work 40 hours a week.  To be so skilled and bad ass in our fields of interest that we could get away with working half the amount of time for twice the amount of money.  When you are in grad school the goal of trying not to have a career is foreign and people stare at you funny.  Despite this mantra of mine my body and mind did become infected with the notions of success and maturity.  What does it mean to have those things?  What does that look like?  This is really about losing your way on the path or rather losing the path on your way.

Interpret as you wish.

Several  months after graduation I went on a camping trip with two very new friends, Gil and Mikey. On our last day out having spent the night barely sleeping due to an extreme drop in temperature we were far from prepared for, we started a late afternoon hike.
The Adirondacks were stunning in a way that you question whether you really exist or not.  After a few hours of us mostly silently hiking letting the woods seep in, we realized that the sun was quickly  setting and the temperatures dropping ( late October).  We were not going to make it to our predetermined destination in time to make it back

The map reading that saved our fricking lives!

before dark.  Not wanting a repeat of experiencing  the previous evening's temps Gil, the only member of our party who had taken any time to read the map at the trail head convinced us that crossing a slightly broad and quickly moving river, was for sure the best way for us to return to our car quickest.  I resisted this plan to my core, I knew it was the best option (if not the funnest) but had a hard time rushing to take off my shoes and my socks to traverse the freezing waters to the other snow covered bank.  I think inherently I was scared that I was incapable of agilely crossing the river and did not want to make the attempt in front of new company.  I sat on a log brooding for a moment  and I remember the thoughts in my mind. When did I get so uncomfortable in my own skin?  When and how did I get so fearful?  So resistant to other humans?  I jokingly blame grad school for my up tightness but truth is my fears are self induced.  Gil slumped down next to me already having crossed the river and come back, looking so bummed out that I looked so pissed off. He would later tell me that he thought I was mad as hell but really I was just so embarrassed.  Meanwhile I look up to see Mikey already finding his own path across the river leaping and climbing stones with a grin on his face and I say, "I'm gonna do it I just need a minute".

Crossing the river stone by stone with Gil who prone to being helpful, is holding my hand and pointing out each cautious step, giving warnings ("okay the water is deep right here")  I make it across.  Mid river I had stopped for one moment to look up at my surroundings- standing barefoot on a shaky rock. I felt as if every piece of me separated momentarily into little points of light eager to join the larger light coming from the setting sun and if I had just waited one moment longer in that separation I would not exist right now.  I remember getting to the opposite bank so excited like  something new had just been injected into me and hopping up and down, "Ah man! That was so much fun! That was so much fun!!"  "That's great but put on your shoes before you freeze!", Gil says pointing down at my very red feet contrasting against  the white snow beneath them.  This moment along with several others this past year caused a crack in this hard shell I had built up as self defense-literally a cracking I can almost hear. Cold river crossing. Crack!  Wasted pillow fight in hotel room. Crack!  Riding a bike everyday again. Crack!

As a result of all that cracking this last year has consisted of much spiritual vessel growing pains, along with much risk taking physically, emotionally.  Not taking risks was how I had strayed and my memory was coming back. Shortly after the camping trip,  in a tarot reading from my friend Sue (less about the cards more about getting advice from her) which I do when I am unsure what I should do with this life, she looks up from the spread and  asks, "What are you willing to risk?", my lips parted and I let out a barely audible "Everything."

For Gil and Mikey, my newest co-conspirators in living dangerously. 


Hippie side note: I know I am SUCH a hippie, I have been hanging quite a bit so I promise to get to the topic (hanging) at hand asap.



Photos courtesy of Mikey Duffer. 
Driving to go camping and map reading courtesy of Gil Avineri.
Woods courtesy of Earth.