Trail napping

I’m often overwhelmed. Too much on the go, too much to do, and too much to keep track of. If it’s not stemming from work-related ambitions and responsibilities, it’s stemming from emotions I fear or am uncertain how to navigate.

Recently, I was feeling particularly overwhelmed. I was nearing the end of a degree, working full-time at an unpaid placement that was a poor fit, grieving the deaths of family members, and couldn’t shake a constant hum of anxiety.

Seeking relief

I finally had a day off and, more out of neglectful detachment than self-care, I decided to spend the day hiking a section of the Bruce Trail. The hike was approximately 14 km, so I knew I’d have plenty of time to settle in and hopefully come out the other side feeling like I’d enjoyed myself.

I drove to the trailhead and eagerly set out into the rainy forest. About one km in, I found myself feeling dehydrated. Usually, I don’t like to stop for refuelling that soon, but begrudgingly I took my backpack off and dug out my water bottle. Less than a kilometre later, I felt myself running out of energy and recognized the feeling as being in need of calories. Feeling a little frustrated, I took off my backpack once more and stopped to eat.

I set off again, and it wasn’t long before I started feeling my energy lacking again. This time I was tired. I hadn’t had enough sleep the night before and I knew a nap would do me a world of good. So, I set my watch alarm for 15 minutes and lay next to a tree, taking a nap on the forest floor.

I woke up, drank more water, took another bite of food, and continued onward, feeling sufficiently rested, hydrated and nourished at last.

Embodiment

Though I was somewhat frustrated by needing to stop three times in less than three km, part of me felt relieved. It felt refreshing to attend to my basic needs.

In my life, it often feels like there is too much required of me. When I’m hiking, the only thing required of me is to put one foot in front of the other until I need more food, drink or rest to keep going.

This embodiment was waking something up in me.

Then a thought from somewhere beyond me was placed in my head:

“I am just a creature who takes itself too seriously.”

It is healing to enter the wilderness and interact with my creatureliness. How much of my professional pursuits, urban amenities, manufactured comfort, and artificial and digital convenience is just a sore attempt at buffering myself from the fact that I am but a creature in need?

A wild creature

I believe the overwhelm that I often feel is partly due to the fact that my true identity is two-part: a creature, made in the image of God.

My overwhelm is trying to get me to pay attention to my true identity, the one I am protecting myself from. The truest part of my truest self is clawing at the metaphorical concrete I’ve used to pave over the pristine wilderness within myself. The truest part of my truest self is trying to come up for air.

The wilderness in me acknowledges the wilderness of the Bruce Trail. The creation that is me acknowledges the creation that is our watersheds and natural ecosystems. The creature that I am acknowledges the Creator. In the wilderness, God can refresh and “re-wild” my true self.