I need the wild like I need air or water. When I feel overwhelmed by the weight of trying to become this idealistic person society has painted as achievable, I flock to the woods like I haven’t had water in weeks. Out here in the middle of nature, I don’t need to be anything but myself. I am set free even if just for a moment of the ensnaring, unobtainable future I am told that I must become. The world becomes fully here and now. Out here, I am enough.
Last summer, a few of my childhood buddies and I travelled across Colorado, Utah, and Arizona. We journeyed across the deserts of Moab, the canyons of Zion, explored Durango, Boulder, and the Grand Canyon. We had nothing but our gear and a tentative schedule, which we had to uproot when we found most of Colorado under several feet of snow, an unusual occurrence for the early Spring months. We camped, hiked, backpacked, climbed, and explored the small cities we drove through along the way. We ignored blistered feet and rainy downpours, knowing that the beauty we were surrounded in was worth every bit of it. We found ourselves turned around and unsure of ourselves, hiking up boulders in the middle of the 9 mile Syncline Loop. We grew drained when we had to reroute our plans due to the unforeseen weather but grateful for the bits of sunshine we were able to find to explore more trails and cliffs. Sunburnt, weary, and blistered, we pressed on. We fell in love with the mountain communities at the base of the national parks and shared theories of what our life would look like if we chose that path too.
Early mornings spent drinking a cup of coffee overlooking mountains, pushing past my perceived physical boundaries to dive deeper and deeper into unknown lands, evenings around a campfire, sore and tired, and sharing a family meal, sleeping under the stars and listening to the noises of the world as it falls asleep; this is where my soul comes alive. It fills me up and gives me life.
I may not be able to live fully off the grid for I am also very grateful for my life in the city, but without the wild, I would not be half the person that I am. There’s something about the adventure and the beauty; it takes you up and spits you out a renewed person, it makes you whole. I am grateful for the small adventures and the big ones and for a community of people that wildly and passionately seek that same soul-awakening goodness we yearn for.
