Panacea

I’m writing this post mainly as a reminder to myself of how wonderfully healing it is for me to be out in Nature — a true panacea. 

The past couple weeks have been a quite stressful and somewhat overwhelming. I’ve found a counselor that feels like a great fit for now and I’ve been doing some very deep work with them, which has been wonderful and positive for me, bringing or speeding up growth and awareness, but it’s also been tiring and has led to intense realizations, vivid dreams, and therefore additional tiredness. Moreover, I’ve been looking for a new place to live, since I have to move out of my current place by mid-October, and it has turned out to be harder than expected — this is when being the “incurable optimist” that I am backfires! In turn, this house-hunting has taken time and attention away from my scientific work, turning my even-present-but-relatively-silent impostor syndrome into a howling monster. 

This past weekend, though, I took off and went camping in a National Forest a little further north, regardless of everything. I had planned this break, and I really needed this break, so I just went. And thank goodness I did! 

Two days totally offline — no computer, no cell-phone, in a place that was totally new to me, mostly on my own or with new people…  

The first night I camped in my tent, at the very far end of the big, primitive camping area that hosted the runners and volunteers for Saturday’s trail race. Technically, I wasn’t alone, but I didn’t know anyone so there was this mixed feeling for me of being “safe” because of there being other human beings relatively nearby but also on my own and exploring because it was a new place and a crowd of strangers. 

The beautiful, powerful, and empowering part came on Saturday night and into Sunday. 

I had planned to volunteer at this race on Saturday and then stay there, camping out, also on Saturday night and go hiking and exploring on Sunday, to make a weekend of it. But I had no fixed plans, and no idea even of what the campgrounds were really like. I planned just enough to be okay but leaving details to the spur of the moment. So after spending the day volunteering with other people at the race, by 5 o’ clock on Saturday evening I was totally alone. Totally. The campground was empty and I had the rest of the evening and night and the next day all to myself. Initially, I felt very lonely and almost lost. I also felt tired and relaxed and I could deeply sense the beauty of everything around me — and that’s when I felt some sadness, or melancholy, because I couldn’t share all that beauty, that relaxed happiness, with some close, beloved person. But I didn’t run away from these emotions nor did I try to push them away. I allowed them to be, while I got on with the practical things I needed to do in order to make my night camping out there alone safe and comfortable. I moved my stuff to a campsite with a bear-box, since that was the major danger there. And I prepared to car-camp since it had rained all afternoon and the ground as well as my tent were too wet. Then, I washed and relaxed, first journaling (expressing my feelings, recognizing them without allowing them to overwhelm me) and then nestling comfortably to read. 

The sky darkened around me and the stars began to poke their heads out. It was just me and Nature, me and the wilderness. It got dark and it got cold, but it was beautiful and I was okay. I was safe — as safe as I could be in such a situation. I had all I needed then & there, all I needed in that moment. I slept the best sleep I’ve had in months: deep, relaxed, relaxing. I got up a few times during the night to pee and admired the starry sky, breathing in the fresh air: during the first part of the night, before the Moon came out, the Milky Way shone brightly, studded with billions of stars; Jupiter was huge in the sky; later, the Milky Way gave way to the Moon, while the stars and Jupiter still shone brightly. I felt so at peace. And alive. And not alone. 

The next morning I woke up feeling happy, refreshed, relaxed and ready to adventure out on a hike. I had a quick, cold, caffeine-free breakfast, broke down camp, and headed out. I still felt so at peace, so alive, and also full of a tranquil energy (not anxious energy) and full of purpose. That grounding purpose of practical things one has to do almost to survive — like I had felt the night before. Which I guess it one of the aspects I like the most — and have always loved and benefited from — about being out in Nature, in the wild. And, in fact, something I’ve always instinctively sought out since I’ve been old/independent enough to do so — with my sailing buddy, “escaping the world” by adventuring out in our little boats; backpacking and/or camping with friends in California; going on long road trips by myself, often on my motorcycle and camping, exploring new places every summer. 

I love being out in Nature, out in the wild, on my own or with close people with whom there’s a deep connection. I love the aspects of adventure, exploration, even risk. But I also love the feeling of “going back to the basics”, of being reminded of, and actually feeling/experiencing, our basic needs without all the additional needs coming from society or civilization. For me, it always feels like a reminder of what we really need to survive, to live, even to be happy and/or well. It feels like “de-cluttering”, cleaning up my brain, my mind, my soul. And it grounds me — even literally, like when I sleep on the ground in my tent feeling content and at peace. It brings me and keeps me in the moment, in that moment, giving me peace in a way that nothing else can. 

I’m writing all this because I need & want to remember it: I’ve always been like this, Nature and being “out in the wild” for periods of time have always been the best remedy for me and often all I really need to find my balance/peace again.