Dawrin and I have been traveling down a trail of life very well marked. The trail signs are clear and accurate showing us how long we have till our next river crossing or climb. We have reached an intersection this week that if we choose could take us on a less marked trail. This trail would have many rocky climbs and steep decents. The many twists and turns it takes will not allow us to see exactly where we are going as the trail is not a cleared one making us bushwhack some of the way.
As usual, we have stood at this trail crossing and plotted traveling down each way. We have finally decided to take the less marked trail (Robert Frost shout out here). We ultimately decided if we are comfortable for to long we are not living to our fullest. We have placed our feet on this rugged trail and are planning on taking our first steps down it this week, as long as we don’t turn around and run back like wieners that is.
I totally was taken over by the couch today. I had such good intentions but the signs were all there; I can see them now.
Before I was lost, I had made plans with a good friend and her baby boy to do a small hike in the morning. I had only been up long enough to start coffee when she texted me both her and the baby were up and dressed. It was exactly eight o’clock and I was just emerging from my bed. The first signs of a downward spiral.
We had a really nice hike around the foothills and then I came home and hit the showers. I then hit the couch. I knew I shouldn’t before I did and yet like an addict, I felt I could get up whenever I wanted. I was so very wrong.
I became part of the couch as the next several hours passed, my ass fully engulfed in the cushions. I glazed over and become numb and my will to move dissolved. I lost myself in episodes of Once Upon A Time; Netflix feeding me more and more episodes, the ultimate addiction dealer.
Before I knew it I was waking up from what I can only predict as an hour and a half nap. I wiped the drool off mouth and looked at Bowie in disgust. We are awful beings. I slumped away from the couch and cleaned up the apartment a bit but somehow I must have blacked out, for I was back on the couch. How did this happen? How did I get back here? I have a list of things to do still!
I tried to resume control by reading a book. The couch would not suspect this, my brain slowly processing thoughts. This plan failed as I only finished the book and found myself surfing the internet. Time went on. I was still on the couch. I looked at Bowie my beloved companion and she was worse off than me. She was back asleep snoring, a true goner. She had become a permanent fixture on the couch. I was on my own.
I would try to escape one last time. I was able to slide off a cushion but alas! The blankets had taken hold of me! They had wrapped themselves around my legs unwilling to surrender me to the day. I looked back, only a glance but it was a second to long. My captor again gained control over me. The warmth of the blankets, Bowie having now joined the dark side, and the couch sucked me down into glorious laziness.
Here I sit comfortable, warm, but disgusted. I write this in hopes you will not suffer my fate. Get rid of your couch, as it will surly never let you go. One sit is all it needs to control you. Beware!
I was looking back over a few of my old journals for some inspiration on what to write this week having nothing really spectacular discuss. I came upon an entry from a few years back using the term “feral.” I continued reading a few other entries but found myself stuck on that word soooo I of course googled it.
Good ol Wikipedia has this to say when referring to a feral animal: A feral animal (from Latin feral, “a wild beast”) is an animal living in the wild but descended from domesticated individuals. Then it dawned on me, this is me! I’m feral! My family is totally domesticated, totally into the nine to five thing and bathing on a daily basis, then there’s me the almost exact opposite, always wanting to escape into the wild and growl at people!
I hate the domestic life style of what a woman my age is “supposed” to live. I hate smelling like a flower, painting my face with chemicals and grooming myself. I prefer a little bit of my own stink and sporting helmet hair or a buff any day. I actually feel it’s unhealthy to bathe everyday and rather enjoy my own stink! I also enjoy the tickle of my own hairy armpits too. I find pit hair rather comical. Being dirty and sweaty makes me feel closer to Mother Nature. Yes, a shower feels great but a layer of dirt feels better!
As far as the nine to five thing I have found this to be very unnatural. We as humans we not made to work as much as we do. Being in the wilds is our natural place and maybe if we weren’t inside working so much we would be outside living close to to nature and not fucking it up so much. I have always felt a pull to explore the world beyond my four walls and feel most alive with dirt and rocks at my feet and trees and grasses surrounding me. Both Darwin and I are currently working towards a life where we can live with our wild brothern every day.
In high school I always had a weird desire to run a cross the football field nudey. My fantasy has since become a reality (minus the football field). I have been nudey in the wild numerous times and always feel wonderful (never being a fan of clothes to begin with). Looking back I feel this was my true self trying to break free. If Im not out on a trail, sleeping in the woods, watching or studying plants or my wilds brothern around me I feel boxed in, trapped. I feel feral is a good word to describe my inner being and who I long to be fully.
My challenge, embrace your feral side whatever that means to you. Hug a tree, go for a hike, a trail run, a backpacking trip, a ski trip, something. Feed that feral being who lives inside you.
This time last year we had said goodbye to 2015 our “Year of Adventure.” 2016 was upon us and we had our eyes set on Katahdin once again. I am officially dubbing 2016 “The year of completion.”
Our everything was focused on getting back to the Appalachian Trail, we were obsessed with it. Although we loved our new surroundings in New Mexico we could never really relax. We had a heavy burden weighing on our shoulders that would not be relieved until we summited.
The Stallion threatened to break down and groaned and clanked everyday until Darwin practically replaced all its innards. Darwin monitored the Class of 2016 in ensure we did not start in a party bubble. We saved and planned until finally it was time for us to leave.
We dreaded it, but returned to our hometown to find it over grown, sticky, and unchanged. We spent time with our family and friends and amazingly everything went as planned as we headed out further to Massachusetts. I was once again guilt stricken as Bowie watched us leave from my mother’s front door.
We entered Great Barrington with mixed feelings as memories returned to us. Someone yelled “Hiker Trash” and we were off. We did not take our return lightly and tried to appreciate every tree, person, and animal we met. We climbed mountains, dealt with the elements, and met new friends. I bitched a lot, ate a lot, and pooped a lot. We summited in the most terrifying circumstances and we were finally complete. We had fucking finished that damn trail!
We were stranded in Maine for about twelve hours until we figured out a way to Indiana driving over nineteen straight hours to do so. We arrived to happy pup dog and swiftly took off again for New Mexico. Screw humidity!
We were received with open arms this time having established friends, jobs and the proper identification. I fell back into an easy routine while Darwin never-resting, was plotting his next adventure.
In August I hauled my ass and the Bowie out to Arizona and watched Darwin ride off into the sunrise on the Arizona trail. I was excited to start a temporary life on my own only to have to return to the state days later to rescue Darwin in Flagstaff.
A few friends visited us in the coming months after Darwin’s return but sadly no family this year. Small trips here and there occupied our time as plans for 2017 brewed within us.
We were asleep on the couch like old people while everyone else rang in the new year. We woke long enough to bitch about the noise and fall into our bed. The first morning of 2017 we were greeted with story boards and lists. It’s still to early to give the year a name but we will not be sitting around trying to think of one either.
