“I have Arrived”

Sometimes after each step on an ascent.

“I have Arrived”

Sometimes when gnats were swarming my face.

“I have Arrived”

Sometimes walking through a green tunnel with golden hour light streaming between the leaves.

“How to walk” by Thich Nhat Hanh, a seemingly silly little book gifted by a friend for my walking commutes in Denver but now, I carried for 1,600 miles of the Pacific Crest Trail. Silly not because of it’s contents but because it seemed trivial to carry extra weight about a simple topic such as walking. the words peering through the mesh on my pack were visible to all who passed leading to a gentle tease every now and again.

I thought days would come with regular epiphanies. They did but it was mostly in sweet potato fries and cherry soda day dreams. I did however, always consult my intention for trail.

To surrender to the moment and be present. To have no expectations and embrace the extremes that the day brings. to welcome the solitude of trail and community of towns.

And this is why I didn’t “finish. I had achieved what I set out to do, greet trail town by town with my Indi pup. I am quoting myself here in a postcard I mailed to myself because I knew that even feeling confident in this decision, I would struggle with the “incompletion” and explanation to other hikers, family, or friends by saying,

“the decision to get off trail is an overwhelming one grounded in so much strength and self discovery. You set ego aside, accomplished intentions, and now have sections to cherish at a better pace for years to come.

Oof ok. And just as was warned, there was deep descent into the post trail sads that follows any grand transition, intensified of course with the pandemic living back home in my childhood home of Iowa. Most days, I was craving who I was on trail, the confidence, the authentic and vulnerable community, and being “Tink”.

So I made a promise to myself, to always stop, reflect, and act. That no matter where I go, I always look inward. and in true pandemic delirium, I got a tattoo (spontaneous pit stop on the way to the grocery store the day after buying a motorcycle…) that would be a reminder to always converse with my intuition…of course on my hitchhiking thumb. And after becoming a Forest Bathing Guide with the Association of Nature and Forest Therapy (thank you Explore Sanctuary for my first virtual experience), this is how I modeled my 10:10:10 method:

10 minutes to stop for the daily embodiment or sit spot
10 minutes to reflect on your experience with the prompt (song, words, dance, painting, etc)
10 minutes to act upon the day with a cup of tea, coffee, juice, or water.

all of these parts of my journey, led to creating Hitchhiker’s guide to embodiment for people like me who: