Enough water has passed under the bridge since I officially pulled the plug on my AT thru-hike that a moment of reflection is warranted. My story, chronicled in older blog posts, reflects the aftermath of emotion that pelted down over me once the window closed. Twelve months down the road, chaff is filtered away, allowing for unencumbered reflection.
The quiet reality of being unable to continue found me humbled and disbelieving. I entered a period of physical healing, mental anguish, and emotional reckoning. All of which proved to be a steeper climb than any I experienced on the trail.
These were uncharted waters as I didn't anticipate the sea of mourning I was left to navigate. Sadness took hold, even as I regained strength and healed physically. Emotional swings were the lemon juice to my paper cut moodiness. I wasn't pleasant to be around, even for myself. Only Neville, my daughter's cat could tolerate me for extended periods. And I think I caught him rolling his eyes more than once.
My perspective had and has changed. Life, as I had grown up to understand, seemed shallow, trivial, even pointless. Wearing brand names felt pretend, even dirty. Years of accumulated "stuff" my wife and I worked so hard to earn felt like a waste. An overwhelming tsunami of material possessions felt more like a burden, an unethical squandering of resources, a total illusion. Happiness, after all, wasn't found in a store, delivered by UPS or could be bought period. It was, in my estimation solely rooted in experience, both good and bad, and the relationships with nature and our fellow travelers.
Unquestionably, needs had to be fulfilled. Water to drink, food to eat, and reasonably good health were necessary. Above that, no big screen TV, no new smartphone, no house, furniture, clothes, car or even the most comfortable bed could provide that dense sense of peace and soul-stirring beauty of a sunrise viewed from a mountain top as the forest wakes for the day. Or the white crystals of moonlight diffused through a rhododendron thicket bathing over you on a cold night.
Our society, the game we all play became just that, a game. Rules hidden from view became more evident. It was as if the pervertible rat race suddenly were visible. The golden ring ordinary folks are reaching for isn't within reach. It is an illusion necessary to keep the game moving. Those most fortunate among us born into privilege are not immune but do have different rules. Even those clueless go-getters unknowingly blinded by the fantasy strut their way into a shallow existence propped up by all that glitters.
Now, normal was overwhelming. The pace of modern life blasted past like a fighter jet. Gone was the natural rhythm of nature — the heavy eyelids at eight o'clock in the evening and waking at first light to the morning chatter of birds. Days without names simplified, walking, eating, walking, getting water, walking, eating, getting more water, setting up camp, relishing in the day, or reflecting on the suck if events dictated. Then bedtime, rinse, and repeat. Finding yourself back into the "real world" felt more alien than wearing gloves for socks. Humans evolved in the natural world, and until I found myself stripped of the learned reality, I was incapable of understanding the feeling of being truly in tune. Surfers speak of being "one with the wave." I now understand, but, for me, it was more of being "one with the wind."
Where I stand today, my perspective has changed forever. Worry about how I'm perceived by strangers on the street faded away. The familiar yearn for the next shiny toy eased. Appreciation for those dear to me has deepened. Patience, compassion, and empathy for my fellow humans have taken root like never before. My passion for protecting what natural places remain on this earth for future generations has galvanized. Through it all, the personal growth feels more valuable than any "thing" I've ever purchased, ever.
The Yin and yang of existence became much more apparent. Cold rain made the sun feel warmer. Rolling thunder gives way to softly floating clouds. Contrasts of environment and emotion fill each day. All of it feeding my being with a breadth of experience, lessons of a fundamental truth I now work hard to remember.
Moving forward, I desire to work in areas that have substance, meaning. Environmental issues, education, equality, addressing policies that data has proven ineffective, unfair, or of little value is of greater interest to me.
Fundamentally, I'm the same guy. The lessons I earned from this broken dream were transformative. I realize walking 759.8 miles of the Appalachian Trail provided much (but not all) of what I hoped to achieve from completing the hike. There is still more to learn, and personal growth has no age limit. Pain and disappointment have stoked my intellectual curiosity adding to a renewed responsibility for doing the right thing for others in all aspects, personal and professional.
My AT journey didn't end when forced physically from the trail. A year out and It still hasn't finished.
