Tejas
“We don’t heal in isolation, we heal in connection.”-Esther Perel
One of the most courageous things you can ever do is to keep going when you want to give up. The other most courageous thing you can ever do is to let go. In a blog I wrote in September 2021 titled “Moving On” I talked about how courageous it was to open yourself up again. There’s courage found in many places… you need only to look.
The title of this post is called: “Tejas” after the trail I took back home after a long and arduous journey through the back country, the longest hike I’ve ever done in my life. Tejas, from what I am told has many meanings depending on what language you speak. I’ve read it means anything from “friend” to “fiery” to “luster.” I really kind of think narrowing it down though is pointless since the experience kind of meant both to me.
In the past 2 years, I’ve felt myself slowly losing my luster. I lost my creativity, I lost my swagger, I became less adventurous. I was so stressed and tired all the time that I only showed up partially in my relationships. I buried myself in my work again, racking up hundreds of PTO hours, never taking any. Fighting to be seen while simultaneously shrinking myself so my needs aren’t too much. Maybe if I had been so passionate about myself and my connections as I was about SAR, then I’d still have these things. The funny thing though is every time I got to get away, explore places like Costa Rica or Yosemite, I felt that spark inside me ignite again… but it would be snuffed out as soon as came back. Hell, I called in for a MEETING while in Costa Rica that I never even got attendance credit for… hindsight 20/20, why the **** was I thinking?! Like the Texas Madrone, I was sacrificing my limbs… but to save what? Reputation? Show my dedication? I should show that same level of dedication to myself and those I love. Stupid me. Lesson learned.
I missed the old me. I missed the sparkle… and I know others in my life did too. I just didn’t know how to pull up from this nose dive I was taking. I wanted my luster back.
Purpose
I met Pam hiking Guadalupe Peak. We talked back and forth about her experiences… searches… adventures… life. She told us a story about how she was walking in the snow in Mount Washington, when she found tennis shoe prints leading out into the storm. Instinctively, she followed them and found a man she called “John” dressed inappropriately, dying of hypothermia in the snow. She dressed him, fed him hot cocoa, and little by little dragged him to his car where she never saw him again. He wrote her a letter saying he went up there to take his life. The story sounded so familiar, until I realized that I had heard a podcast episode on it YEARS ago (which you can find here). I was in the presence of a legend, and who’s story affected my life. They even made a movie about it called “Infinite Storm” with Naomi Watts.
But beyond the movie and the podcast, Pam was just… well, Pam. In her 70’s, she hikes more miles in a day than most people do in a season. She’s resilient and humble, and has a deep connection with the wilderness around her that I find endearing. Hiking up the gnarliest trail imaginable, she’d stop and listen to the birds, thanking them for giving her such beautiful music… meanwhile I was shoving Jolly Ranchers in my mouth just so I didn’t bonk out from exertion. I admire that about her.
When I was heading back to West Texas, I knew I needed Pam time. I needed to gain from her wisdom and feed off her resilience. I needed the challenge of trying to keep up with her as she took me for a 15+ mile hike up and around every trail imaginable. It was… arduous to say the least. At one point, I was running low on water and had to drink snow… but I loved it. I felt alive again, despite the grief being all consuming.
As we made our way up Bear Canyon, we talked about everything from under the sun: cougars, birds, heartache, loss, leadership, confidence. I asked her how she keeps going through all of the emotional and physical pain of life, and her answers were something I already knew deep inside me. We were doing it as we speak: helping people.
We reached the top of Hunter’s Peak (the 6th highest peak in Texas) where we saw our first mountain lion print… the anxiety of sharing the woods with a predator was only because I WANTED to witness one in person. Along the route she showed me animal prints, scat, cabins, plants, old stock tanks… she knew these trails like people know the city. We when up rocky out crops, stood on cliff edges, walked through meadows, and trudged over downed trees.
We sat on the table inside a secluded cabin on the mountain tops, eating our lunch and talking about the next adventure, and although I had the strongest urge to walk these trails alone I was so glad to have company. I needed nature to ground me, but I also needed to be around the right person to see the lesson in all of this.
The thing is, Pam doesn’t need to charge up a mountain and short rope a person off it to save a life. I don’t need to be on a boat in the storm seas, looking for a lost fisherman. Making a difference doesn’t need to be this overwhelming show of force… it can be quality time… connecting with people… showing up for them… sitting in an isolated cabin showing someone the wonders of the world.
Luster
The hike down was brutal. My feet were on fire the entire way down, but I felt polished afterwards… like the sweat and grime had wiped myself clean. Like a tumbler does for rocks. I could feel the old me shining through with every drip of sweat. And somehow I knew what I had to do next.
