My apologies for going dark for a few months. Life was moving pretty fast there for a while, but it has mercifully returned to a steady, manageable tempo. I am happy to announce that after months of walking and driving, travelling and vagabonding about this beautiful country, I have found a new place, a new job, a new home, a new path to walk that is all my own.
Around this time last year, I was wrestling with a lot of fear and doubt. I was ill-at-ease over the leap I was about to take. There was a life spread out before me. I didn't know exactly what it was. I couldn't see it clearly then. It was dark, cloudy, and just out of reach. But I could feel it. It pulled at me like gravity. Only the obstacle of my old, familiar life prevented me from submerging fully in the unknown. I had only to step off the ledge.
Renata Alder once wrote that "when you have stood still in the same spot for too long, you should throw a grenade in the exact spot you were standing in, and jump, and pray."
I quit my jobs. I sold and stored my belongings. I said my goodbyes, to friends, family, and that beloved, old, familiar way of life. I put on a backpack, and boarded a plane. And then I prayed. I remember every single day that I spent on that beautiful trail. Every moment of joy, anguish, pain, fear, and gratitude is etched clearly in my mind's eye. I remember the joy and relief at returning home to the people I loved, whole and healthy. I remember the whimsical and exuberant bliss of life on the road, of watching the sun rise and set from new horizons each day. Still, nothing burns in my memory with the high-definition clarity of those 143 minutes I spent on that plane to the southern terminus of the PCT for my very first long distance hike. Those moments were a free fall, a state I had surrendered myself to and was no longer capable of altering. Gravity had taken ahold of me. The journey ahead was racing towards me at a cruising speed of 500 knots, and the only choice I had in the matter was to trust or not trust that everything would be alright.
I chose to trust. I chose to trust because the only other option was shutting down, going fetal, giving in to the fear and allowing it to consume me. I made the choice to trust in myself, to save myself, to believe that I could handle the obstacles as they came. The funny thing is, when I made that choice, everything seemed to work out okay. And even when it wasn't okay, things wouldn't stay bad for very long. The trust I had in myself grew with every little challenge, and I found that all of my fears fell silent against the ever-growing roar of my inner voice telling me, "You're okay. You've got this."
The minute my feet touched the Pacific Crest Trail for the first time, the scope of my world was refracted like light through a prism. My definition of normal was utterly unraveled, the ashes of my old life scattered in the desert wind. Every dusty step I took was a brick in the foundation of my new life, my new identity. Sometimes it is hard for me to remember who I was before I was Happy Feet. Happy Feet has become a sacred alter ego, a version of myself that has strength beyond measure, wisdom beyond her years, and unwavering faith in herself. She reminds me that I can always work harder, always take a few more steps, always be grateful, humble, light-hearted, and kind, and keeps me as close to the thrumming heartbeat of this beautiful world as she can. She guides me in the direction of my goals and my passions. She got me this far. I can't wait to see where she takes me from here.
I will be revamping the purposes of this blog steadily over the next few months. I will share tales of my travels that may serve as inspiration, advice, consolation, or simply entertainment for my readers. I will include components meant to serve as resources for my fellow wanderers, and those aspiring to walk long distances. I will also include stories, mostly intended for loved ones who are far away. To all who read this blog, know that you have my sincerest thanks. Writing is one of my dearest loves in life, and it is an honor to write for you.
That's all for now. Happy Trails!
~Happy Feet
