Take a Hike
Yesterday, I took myself on a solo hike. Going out into the wild places by myself is something I’ve been working on since the start of the year - but this particular adventure ended up being the farthest I’ve walked on my own and the farthest I’ve driven up the canyon without another companion (be they human or canine).
It’s a very small, yet also exceptionally big, step for me.
I’m quite content to be by myself when I’m at home. I love solitude, love hearing only the sound of my own thoughts. But take me out of the house and into the world and suddenly I would VERY MUCH like to have a buddy. Or to go back home.
I’ve talked for years and years about stepping outside of my comfort zone - and in many ways, especially on an emotional level, I’ve been pretty successful. But I’ve also known for a good long while that there’s only so much I can achieve wrapped in the cocoon of safety that is my home and my people. At some point, I’ve also got to learn how to stand on my own without all those support systems.
When I was first gentling Cirrus and beginning to lead him to new and unfamiliar places, the trainer I was working with told me it was like spreading peanut butter on toast. You start with big, safe dollop in the middle and, little by little, push it out towards the edges. Go too fast and it will grow thin and split - but if you take your time and keep coming back to the middle, to what is known and solid, then pretty soon you’ll have a perfect spread on the whole slice.
So I’ve been spreading the peanut butter, so to speak - staying out a little longer, trying new trails, making sure to take breaks and photos, to sip water and eat snacks, instead of just putting my head down and “getting it over with”. And though I can’t say my anxiety is gone (I don’t truly believe it ever will be) it’s becoming more manageable with every hike.
Anyhow, yesterday - I got in the truck, made the drive, parked at a familiar and well-traveled trailhead, and proceeded to wind my way along eight and a half miles of dirt trail.
Without fail, when I set off on my own a song always gets stuck in my head and I end up singing it over and over and over again in my head as I walk, keeping time with my stride. Yesterday’s tune was “Cold Day in July” by the Dixie Chicks. All the way up and all the way down (and it’s still stuck in my head today) -
The moon is full,
My arms are empty
All night long I’ve pleaded and cried
You always said
The day that you would leave me
Would be a cold day in July.
I’m trying hard to learn to identify as many of the wild plants and flowers of my beloved mountains as I can - being able to call them by name always gives me such a thrill and I end up feeling like I’m seeing familiar faces even when exploring places I’ve never been to before. And right now, so many things are blooming, fed by snowmelt and pure mountain air and the sunlight that continues to warm the earth day by day. Here are a few of the beauties I found yesterday :
Pasque Flower
Alpine Mertensia
Subalpine Larkspur
Sand Lily
The wild plum, though, is by far my favorite. I’m pretty sure the blooms peaked last week, which I’m sad to have missed, but I’ll take what I can get! The flowers look like a dusting of snow settled upon the scrubby hillsides and the smell - it’s like grape candy. If I ever manage to find some at the nursery, you can bet I’ll be adding a few bushes to my own yard.
My only real moment of uncertainty arrived with my first snake sighting of the year. I didn’t hang around to see if it was a rattler - a snake is a snake, after all - and instead skittered away through a clump of prickly pear like a spooked horse, swearing all the while. And while I may have jumped at every branch and twisted root lying across the trail thereafter, I made it down the mountain with a smile on my face.
On another note, it’s been interesting staying so quiet in my digital spaces (by which I really just mean Instagram) while I build my next collection of work. On some level, I feel like I’m letting people down by not sharing more - but on another, I’m finding a power and a richness in my studio practice that has been absent for years and years. And that joy and connection with what I’m making continues to win out over my guilt about being less-than-stellar with my social media presence.
I just think back to myself as a kid, spending hours and hours cozied up in my room drawing horses or stringing beads or sewing up little treasures. How the choices I made were for my joy alone - and the thought of what others might make of my making never crossed my mind. Before I made art for a grade. Before I made art to sell.
And I’m not saying those avenues of making have been all bad - I have learned so many things on my art-making journey and believe that, through them, I grew beyond the bounds of what I could have achieved all on my own. There is very little I’d change about the path I took to get to this point.
But it is in my nature to be a people-pleaser. To mold myself into a form that will win me praise even as I turn within and build barriers around my heart. I know this about myself but will still fall into those old, well-worn ways of being if given the opportunity - so it’s been such a relief to realize that I can choose to shelter myself a little. To hold back the sharing in order to allow myself to make the absolute BEST work I can. Pieces steeped in story and curiosity and LOVE instead of anxiety over how they’ll be received or if they’ll sell.
Now, I still feel like this blog space is sort of “secret” - even though I see the pages have been looked at (and I assume that the words have been read, too!). Occasionally I’ll also get an email or two about a particular post. But the point is that I feel no pressure here. No need to be anything I’m not or to prove myself or to justify my work.
And with that thought in mind, I’m going to share just a little of what I’ve been working on. The tiniest preview because the work feels so full and I’m simply bursting. More info on these pieces on Instagram in June, available in the Summer Restock on 6/20.
