I spent Christmas Day hiking the Pacific Crest Trail. An 1,100 mile journey from the Mojave Desert through the High Sierras to Washington State. Technically, author Cheryl Strayed did the hiking, I just went along for the trek, reading her book Wild cover to cover lying on the couch. Although I felt I was with her, I was comfy underneath a quilt. And not just any quilt, my turtle quilt, made by Nana when I was eight years old.

 

As the outside temperature plummeted, I read.  A pounding thunderstorm gradually evolved to snow with quarter-sized flakes, the sort that float dreamily to the ground and pile up all afternoon. With Annabelle curled at my feet, a fire nearby and steaming coffee, I luxuriated in a perfectly peaceful Christmas Day.Yes, Dallas had a White Christmas. That in itself was a miracle.

With no hiking or backpacking experience, Wildis the fascinating memoir of one young woman’s journey to rebuild her self-destructive life one step at a time. She faced intense heat and record snowfall, black bears, rattlesnakes and injuries. Somewhere along the trail, while confronting her personal demons, she found herself.

I was mesmerized.I can’t imagine pushing myself to those limits.

As humans we are rarely alone. Not really. We are surrounded by people and media and music and traffic. But when we are alone with only ourselves, we think and grow.

As I read the book I tried to remember a time I was truly alone. In fifty years the only experience I could semi-compare to Wild occured one day during the summer I spent in Tokyo. I traveled alone to a neighboring village. Changing trains multiple times and never sure I was on the right train, I thought I might never make it back to my group. With only one semester of Japanese, I was inept reading and speaking the language.  I remember sitting on the train surrounded by strangers thinking no one in the entire world knows where I am right at this moment. I didn’t know where I was at that moment. (Before iPhones and GPS and checking-in on Facebook…)

It was empowering, although a bit frightening.

talyaGrace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.

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