Earlier in the week I posted on the Not Just Sassy blog about my long healing journey. Then a few days later I watched an old Super Soul Sunday I'd picked up, in which Oprah interviewed Cheryl Strayed, author of Wild*.
Her story is amazing and I was really impressed. But as she talked about the journey and her feeling that everyone needs to do that, I found myself thinking, “No, no, no.” I hate camping. I like a nice hike of an hour or two and then I want to go back to plumbing and electricity. While I don’t doubt that I could learn things from such a journey, I just don’t wanna.
When I lived in the Pacific Northwest several friends who were sure I’d love it if I just experienced it–if I’d tried it and not liked it, apparently I just hadn’t been treated to the right experience–so they dragged me off to camp in the woods. By the end of each experience my guide was so tired of me whining about bugs and wet wood that wouldn’t let us light a fire (leading to NO COFFEE), rocky ground, animal noises, claustrophobia in sleeping bag, etc., they never suggested it again. Yea!
It occurred to me as Ms. Strayed continued that I’ve been on my own Pacific Crest journey, it’s just played out in my body. I’ve had to dig deep, discover my mettle, find my own way, learn about myself, etc. in order to traverse this journey through mysterious muscle issues that few knew how to address.
Hard as this has been, as soon as I realized I just walked a different path into the wilderness, I felt so thankful that the Universe didn’t send me out in the real wilderness and make me camp and hike and live with bugs. Thank you God for this small pleasure — not camping! I’m gonna try to remember that when my head aches and I haven’t slept for days thanks to the unwinding muscles in my face…
* Link takes you to our beloved local independent bookseller, Joseph Beth. Please support independent booksellers.