There is more to life than writing

This is how Sandra Lim ends her poem the top of the mountain and although the poem loses much of the context by talking about just that line, I can’t think of any more appropriate advice for hiking.

Since finishing my walks this summer, I have started my final year of college. I really don’t love my title, I really don’t love my job and I really don’t love know Where am I going with all this? I did what felt right to me: I’m pursuing a degree that should provide me with financial stability if I were to get a job in the field. The job I currently have is guiding outdoor recreational trips during college (literally, what an amazing job to get paid), and I have a great circle of friends and family. So why do I feel unmoored?

Let’s get back to this through hiking. Every day I looked for the next campsite, the next water source, and most often, my next meal. Very little was needed to keep me sustained on the trail other than dehydrated meals and ham and cheese sandwiches. I even remember large stretches of time spent in unbearable heat in complete silence on the side of a road without wanting to look at my phone or even think about distracting myself from the task at hand. I was so focused I almost forgot that there were days that would come after the trail ended.

I think being focused lies somewhere in sticking to a goal. The hikes I did were short though, both on the order of a week, so the day to day didn’t seem as difficult when the finish line seemed so close compared to something like the AT or PCT. When that goal is so present in your mind, there is nothing that takes it away from you, nothing that distracts you from giving everything of yourself to achieve the goal. But I think that’s where the problem lies. There is a goal. You can pursue that goal at all costs. and You will achieve it, but you will never get back the time you dedicated to it.

When I think about the hikes I’ve taken, there’s clearly one that I reflect on with more good memories than the other. Let me make it clear that between my two hikes, the one I did solo and the one I did with friends, the one I did with friends was undeniably more satisfying and memorable. Because? Because my friends encourage and tease me in ways I never would have imagined. In my worst moments, they joked as they ran with me through clouds of mosquitoes. At worst, he helped them wrap their bandages and carried on conversation over lunches filled with hummus and cheese. Did this alter the ideal way each wanted to walk? Absolutely. Would I trade what I did with them for my ideal itinerary? Never in a fucking million years.

I don’t regret for a second the solo hike I did, I think I just realized that maybe I wouldn’t want to do a full solo hike again, but this is where we go back to my life for a second. I’ve been caught trying to maximize the efficiency of how I get through college, maximize my college experience, maximize the «fun» I can get from my job, even as I espoused my college-going younger siblings to do ANY of those things at the risk of losing the essence of a good life: the friction of friendship and family that creates the best times of our lives. I told them to go presentDon’t focus too much on any given task, at the risk of completely wasting the time you have to dedicate to connection and community.

And I think we’ve gotten to the crux of this blog post: there’s more to life than writing. I’ve been thinking a lot about how to regain direction in my life beyond simply receiving my degree and looking for the right job in the next few years. What I need is not concentration, but presenceit’s a reality that doesn’t come from reading poetry or writing blog posts (although I will say it’s been a lot of fun).

Out of complete incongruity, I started playing pool a lot with Shepard at school. We play at least twice a week, if not more, and it’s the first time in a long time that I’ve made time for something in my life other than trying to reach a hiking goal, studying for good grades, or any other arbitrary social or cultural goal you can imagine. We’re just two guys taking an hour out of our days to set up some balls on a felt table and make appropriate and inappropriate ball-related jokes while doing so. Those games are the ones I look forward to every day.

So I also started doing my best to take the free time that I would waste on my phone or whatever other escapist thing I take my time with (unfortunately, I think this includes doing hours of research in random areas of the world to plan a hike there when I couldn’t go there in the conceivable future, I know a very hard truth for all hiking enthusiasts to hear, but I had to be honest with myself) and instead of going to see my mom, call my grandma, text her my brothers about something funny I saw online and Trying to make plans with my friends whenever I can. Is this an easy feat? Not at all. This is possibly harder than all the engineering classes I’ve taken combined. It’s like juggling 8 million chainsaws (definitely not that hard, but you get the point). But you know what? I have found that those moments are almost always the best parts of my days.

Hiking also used to be the best part of my day, and still is when I go frequently, but most of my hikes have other goals associated with them. Hiking is undoubtedly one of those goals. When I first hiked, I also had one goal: to get out and be present. I did it with friends, I did it alone, I did it in all kinds of weather with minimal equipment at the time and I was ecstatic. I want to get back to that.

So I planned a backpacking trip with a friend I hadn’t seen since the winter. I’m very excited to go. Not because we are challenging ourselves to a feat of strength, will or ingenuity, but because we will be together. And certainly, facing those challenges if I face them will make for memorable moments, but I’m excited to be back in the mountains sharing moments together like I did when I started hiking.

This post isn’t really meant to be a nostalgic reflection on my hikes or any kind of deep epiphany because it isn’t, it’s a reminder to myself, which I hope can also remind you if you’re feeling unmoored after your hike or any other time in life, that being present will help you get back on that path in your life and that there are people around you who will form a beautiful community with you if you try. Good luck to everyone, see you next year. Never forget: there is more to life than writing.

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