My Hike To Serenity
I went to the Adirondacks this summer in Upstate New York for my first time. I have lived in New York my entire life. I’ve made my way traveling from Buffalo to New York City quite a few times, but the in-between of New York was just the interstate connecting these two cities. I went from one hustling city trying to rebuild itself, to the biggest hustling city in the world.
Then, I was invited by my dear friend Julia to her family’s cabage in Inlet, New York, a small town in the Adirondacks. A cabage for all those wondering is an inventive word created by yours truly which is a house that is the combination between a cabin and a cottage. I said yes in an instant (because why would I not), and soon enough I was on my way from my home in New York to this brand new world I hadn’t yet explored.
And lo and behold, I made it!
Pulling up to the white quaint cabage, after 5 hours of cramping legs and dozing naps, was the perfect way to introduce me to the Adirondacks, combining the familiarity of a white painted home (like my own) with the natural world through the carved black bears in the pine green window shutters. Surrounded by trees that seemed to touch the clouds, I took in nothing but the purest of oxygen fresh from pine leaves of those towering trees.
Yes. I repeated to myself. This is it. (a common pairing I tongue when I am so overjoyed I cannot formulate many words).
On the second day, we (Julia, her uncle, grandma, dad, and I) hiked up Bald Mountain. Julia called it a short hike so we dressed a little nicer (and by nice I mean two pairs of heavy duty overalls: mine which were made for serious gardeners and Julia’s which were made for holding tools in construction) to take advantage of any photo opportunities so we could future-proof this trip to our memories. The hike up Bald Mountain in the Adirondacks was like no hike I have ever taken before. I have hiked many trails throughout New York, whether that be in Allegheny, Watkins Glen, or Letchworth State Park, but no hike has ever provided me with the adventure of steep hikes, rocky peaks, slightly dangerous maneuvers that could cause me to break something had I fallen (a thrill factor that I must say I enjoyed), or the amazing overlooks that put into perspective why I sweat my way up a mountain. I saw mountains and lakes surpassing the horizon. No houses, towns, or people from any view, left or right. I had never seen a mountain in real life before that day, and on that day I saw so many of them! All with their soft peaks painted with the dense forest and creatures (bears and moose as I am told) beneath!
Just standing and looking was enough to satisfy my week in just that day. I could spend hours on the rocks overlooking this purely natural world, painting, filming, being with this place.
But... this wasn’t a just me trip so we did eventually head back down.
On the way down, Julia and I somehow sped extremely far ahead of the group. What can I say, when I am gaining momentum, I do not hold myself back, I go! We were at one point probably 10 to 15 minutes ahead of the group so we found ourselves a temporary home on these two fair sized boulder-rocks. The trail was empty except for ourselves, the trees, and the critters crawling around. Sitting there, I realized that I had spent so much time unintentionally rushing on the hike down the mountain that gaps of my memory were missing. Entire chunks of this forest were simply RAM to my brain, wiped as soon as that program closed. Yet again, I took myself out of the now, forgetting about my steps on the hike for some random because.
Sitting there on that rock, I realized all of this. On that rock, I temporarily made home, and I chose to reunite my mind with the sky and my body with the ground. With no contemplation or battle in my mind, my eyelids fell and my chest opened paceless, with no rush to compress. My ears found the radio station of the now, and my entire world was the wind rushing through the leaves, and distant crickets rubbing their knees.
I was meditating! (Which is peculiar for me because meditating has always been this scheduled to-do that I know is good, but I don’t run high on the benefits of). But meditating, slowing down, and reminding myself of where I am, letting my other senses guide me rather than being lost by the illusions sight sometimes provides, creates a deeper impression and appreciation for the natural world and my mind alike.
In that moment, I remembered where I was. I remembered what it feels like to exist.
Meditating brought me closer to nature, and nature brought me closer to figuring out what it means to be alive. And for that, I am grateful.
