Heading to the Hotsprings

My experiences hiking in the wilderness have been very few. I have travelled extensively and consider myself quite a road warrior, but ... off road?
Originally I wanted to go without a GPS so I would be faced with more challenges and further my experiment with doing without technology (so far the car, cell phone and laptop are gone).
Four times in two weeks, I got lost, one time bushwhacking through steep and dangerous canyons for 4 hours before I realized that my GPS compass had lost its calibration and was giving me an incorrect heading. In these moments, I felt quite vulnerable but also noticed that my vitality increased as my mind kicked into a fierce determination to find the trail again.The segment of the Continental Divide Trail that I hiked has very few water sources, with sometimes a distance of 15-20 miles between them, which means that one must walk that much in a day in order to drink and cook. With a limping pace, I often had to hike 8-10 hours a day to get to my next water hole, which could be a mere brown pond tainted by cow dung. I clogged my miniature water filter in one of the first such water spot but fortunately had a secondary source of water purification. After a long day hiking in the sun, drinking and cooking with such water involves a lot of faith!
But amidst the aches, thirst and hunger come the euphoric moments-reaching a mountain pass, finding a spring, catching a glimpse of a wild creature or reaching a little town after a week of not seeing one human being and sitting at a cafe, eating a good all-American breakfast (minus the bacon!) in the company of manly and sun-parched ranchers.
Being away from "civilization" with no time-table to re-enter its stream (rapids?) and no agenda but being with what is, is giving my energy the space to slowly unwind.
This process is often quite disconcerting for me as I can feel like a 14 year-old boy with not a concern in mind and the next moment panic as a middle aged man without a job, a home or money. I face hordes of societal and parental judgments and pressures as thick as the tenacious pygmy oak I sometimes have to fight through when I pass through a burnt-out forest. When my mind wanders in the past, I find myself engulfed in anger and resentment and have had to devise radical practices to reel in the inflamed energy. Walking with anger while surrounded by the most astonishing beauty and serenity has its comical side. The magic of being alone in a non-judgemental natural world is that one can let go into the pits of pathetic self-centeredness/indulgence and be instantly brought back to a vibrant reality by the screech of a red tail hawk or by an ant crossing one's path. Away from my common distractions and addictions I get to dismantle my hardened whole and make anew with the parts I like and love. I sing lullabies to my everyday reconstructed child and cherish him inside this decaying by still valiantly capable body. I contemplate the pain that I experience in my body and entangle the tight sinews of fear oppressing my breathing.
In that pain I often connect with my mother giving me birth and I feel humbled and remarkably thankfull.
At night, each warm spoonful of (dehydrated) black bean soup fills me with a nourishment that soothes the wound of not having been breastfed as an infant.
At dusk, exhausted, I kiss the ground and give thanks for this opportunity to be alive and commune with so many creatures, plants and rocks-all teachers and friends.
Everyday, I enter deeper into a community that has always been integral to the indigenous way of being, and I open wider to its gifts, lessons and healing.
I am grateful for my parents and my friends, and for this opportunity to be human in these strange but extraordinary times.
Today, I am heading back into the forest to find some hot springs and sit for a period of time. I spent two days in Silver City, NM, eating normal food (especially yogurt!), watching the VP debate and drinking a few delicious micro brews. I appreciate all that the city has to offer but I miss the softness of the trail and the soothing light of the forest. Slideshow