Great Sand Dunes National Park

A reflection on learning to confront my fears of being alone, realizing I need to love myself before I can accept anyone else’s love, and finding joy in making my own path — all in the The Great Sand Dunes National Park in Colorado (continue reading below…)

The full moon rising over the Sangre De Cristos and lighting up the dunes. Taken at F4, ISO 200, 8 sec.

During my Baptiste Training I discovered that deep down I believed (and feared) that I will never be worthy of love. Ironically, my fear became a self-fulfilling prophesy. The more I was afraid, the harder I sought out affirmations from people who I thought “mattered”. Yet, the more mental energy I put into getting others’ affirmation the more depressed and isolated I felt! As long as I believed that I needed others’ affirmations, the more impossible it was for me to actually experience true love or friendship. If someone liked me, I worried it was because I had fooled them (and if they knew the truth they’d stop respecting me). Or, if they didn’t, I would internalize the rejection and use it to affirm my insecurities. Opening the aperture even further, this belief prevented me from living life on my own terms. I believed that to be loved meant only taking certain jobs or behaving in certain ways. If there was a prestigious well-worn trail in front of me, I felt like I had no choice. I had to climb it.

A line of hikers all climbing up the High Dune on the same path

Now I see that I’d been in a prison of my own making. If I truly love myself, not for who I project to be, but who I actually am, then I don’t need to be afraid of being alone. I am enough. And paradoxically, the more truly confident I am (including owning my failings and fears), the more easily I connect with total strangers and loved ones alike! When I exude pride in what I’m doing, look people in the eye, and care about them for them (not so I can get affirmed for caring!) – I’ve been having some of the most surprising and beautiful encounters of my entire life.

My two days in the Great Sand Dunes National Park demonstrated this powerfully. On the first night, I climbed the “High Dune”, which is about 700 vertical feet of sand. When I got the top of the ridge I saw a man with a tripod. I made my way to him to talk about photography. I ended up talking to him (he was my age) and his parents (both recently retired from government service) for about two hours. We shared the stories of our lives as climbed from ridge to ridge trying to capture the changing light on the sand. 

Once the sun set the magic really started to happen. With the western sky still glowing near the horizon, the full super moon appeared first as a sliver, then a half circle, and finally hovered fully rounded above the peak of the Sangre De Cristo Mountains to the east. We gasped as the light began to fill the valleys of sand below our feet. Our fingers were numb at this point, but we kept adjusting our ISO and shutter speeds trying to capture the light. 

As we walked back toward the way down we ran into five other people who were watching the moon rise too. Before I even knew who they were I asked, “Who wants to howl at the moon?”. I counted down from three and we all bayed in unison until we fell into laughter. 

I wish I would have stayed at the top as the family I met walked down, but for a moment I felt the need to stick with them. But midway down, I realized that was the old me. I had had my time of beautiful connection with them, and I wanted to photograph the moon a little while longer. I bade them farewell and stayed alone on the dunes late into the night.

In the morning I discovered that the “High Dune” hike was actually the ONLY official hike open this time of year in the park. Not only that, but there were no open restaurants for lunch or dinner within 45 minutes. Why had I stayed an extra day I wondered? However, once I got over my need to do the “official” or “known” hike, I gave myself permission to just wander, and again that’s when magic happened for me.  

I drove my car as far I could on a dirt road, and then just started to hike not knowing where to. As I approached a creek at the base of the dunes I saw there was a dune in the distance that looked even taller than the High Dune. Unlike the High Dune which is hiked hundreds of times a day, there were no other footprints in the sand near the creek. So, I had to choose where to go and find my own way to get there. 

You can see the dune I climbed in the center of the photo. All you can see of it is its peak (lit up) rising above a ridge before it. It was ~700 vertical feet from the base of the dunes to the top.

What a perfect metaphor for this entire sabbatical! I could spend the rest of this trip doing it on other’s terms and going to all the famous places I’m supposed to go. Or, I can follow my intuition each day, wander toward unknown vistas, change course on a dime, and figure out by trial and error how to get to wherever I decide to aim. The first way would lead to a safe and beautiful trip. The latter is so much riskier – who knows what will happen. But, when it’s over, I will know I made my own path. 

Taken on my way down the hike - you can see both my footprints going up and coming back down the dunes in both the near ground and higher up in the background

Back at the dunes - my path (the one I created) was so steep at times I had to crawl and dig my hands into the sand to get up. But was it ever worth it! I’ve rarely felt such a sense of wonder and accomplishment upon getting to the peak. 

At the top I saw storms were coming. So, after just a few minutes I headed down. As I did the winds picked up violently. Sand was pelting my face and arms and getting into my eyes. And without warning it started to snow! I don’t know how to explain quite how strange it is to see swirling snow on top of a sand dune that gets to be over 140F in the summer. But there I was. Thankfully, the storm passed quickly, and as I approached the bottom the sun actually began to shine!

As I descended, I felt a great sense of pride following my footsteps in the sand back down. Here was visual evidence that I had made this path. Not only had it brought me joy to make, but now it was helping me descend safely (and perhaps would guide some future hiker too).  

I was entirely alone for this hike. I envisioned it on my own. I figured it out the path on my own. I climbed it alone. In the past I think I would have come down the from the mountain lonely – believing it to not have mattered if it wasn’t shared. And, yes, of course, sharing it would have been beautiful. But that lack alone doesn’t invalidate the value of experience for me. I feel so much pride and joy at the way I discovered and completed this hike alone. Doing it is affirms for me yet again how I need to let go of my need to live life on other people’s terms, and instead embrace my own process of discovery - even though I don’t always know where I’m headed.

Petrified Forest National Park

The Petrified Forest is most surprising National Park I’ve visited yet. Below is the story of how I was forced to crawl to my car, made completely false assumptions about what I was seeing, realized I was wrong, and how the experience is making me reflect on my life more broadly. Read on below…

I was tired when I got to this park and the weather was awful. It was clear storms were near and as I entered my car was shaking the winds were so strong. Though it wasn’t raining yet, the wind alone made being outside feel like I was one of those weather reporters you see on TV giving the live updates on a nearing tropical storm as their clothes flap about this way and that. At one point when I opened my car door the door leapt out of my hand and slammed open the rest of the way so violently I was afraid it’d rip off. Later, determined to push ahead no matter what, I decided I’d go on a short 1 mile hike. I only got about 500 feet from my car. Afraid I would fall over, I had to drop to the ground and (literally!) crawl back to my car.

Despite that - the park was full of surprises - for instance, despite the name “Forest” in the title - it is in the middle of an arid desert. I saw only a handful of live trees in this entire park. The park covers 260 square miles, with a single 30 mile road running through it. There is almost no available hiking. And despite the name “Petrified Forest” - you don’t see a single petrified log until you are past halfway through the the drive. I drove through in about an hour (including stops).

I stopped at the museum at the end of the 30 mile road mostly because I had to use the bathroom. But - wow - am I ever glad I did! After spending 40 minutes in the musuem, I finally realized what I’d been looking at and got to see the petrified wood up close. The painted desert isn’t just “neat looking” - it is a visual record of our geological history, choke full of fossils of flora and fauna. Moreover, the different colors in the hills aren’t just beautiful - each layer is a record of MILLIONS of years of history. And the “scattered rocks” above the sand… that’s the petrified forest! When I’d been driving through the first time I’d been disappointed that there seemed to be so little of the forest left. Now I realized it had been all around me and I didn’t even realized it.

Behind the museum there is short trail (somewhat sheltered from the wind) that cuts between hundreds of petrified logs (some tens of feet long others barely stumps). The fact that the shapes of the petrified logs (which have been above ground and exposed to the elements for MILLIONS of years) are indistinguishable from a log fallen a year ago is incomprehensible to me. I loved getting near them and studying their shapes and colors.

This knowledge and experience changed everything about the park for me.

Rather than exiting onto the highway after finishing with the museum, I turned around and went backward, in order to drive the entire 30 mile road again. This time I went much, much more slowly, and saw everything in a new light. The decision immediately felt heavenly ordained when a rainbow spread across the sky.

As I left the park the whole experience got me thinking - how many times in my life have I rushed through something, believing myself to have “done it”, but actually having missed it? How many times have I’ve been so pleased with myself for the speed at which I arrived at my insight - seen true - but also completely missed what matters?

Every day of this trip I feel like the universe has been giving me an opportunity to confront my old stories and ways of being. In so doing, it’s giving me a choice - stay as I was, or change; hold onto my old beliefs, or let them go. For someone who is tempted by fear based decision making and wants to control - this is hard work! However, what I’m learning is that when I let go of my expectations, of my initial “insights”, of my need to control other’s perceptions of me, or my need to get to a conclusion quickly, and instead, simply sit with whomever (or whatever) I am with - and open myself to whatever they want to reveal - life is so much richer!

Monument Valley

The post tells the story of my time in and around Monument Valley. It was a day of magical views, new friendship, and fewer (but better photographs). Read on below…

When I arrived in Monument Valley it was in the middle of a sand storm, there was no visibility, and my camera was broken. Two days before my camera had gotten soaked when I slipped in a slot canyon near the Vermillion Cliffs. Since then I’d put it into a bag of rice but I didn’t know if it’d come back.

Throughout this trip I’ve been trying to trust that whatever happens - good or bad - it is an opportunity to learn and it’s what I need. And as I reflected I realized traveling without it for the prior two days helped me connect with strangers, take more in, feel calmer, and be more adventurous.

So when I woke up in the morning and found the sand was no longer blowing and my camera had turned on in the night I was ecstatic. I also wanted to make sure I integrated what I learned from its lack. So, throughout the day I took far fewer pictures, talked to more strangers, and spent more time looking at the world before clicking. I love my pictures of the valley and I met 6 people that day who I’m now in contact with.

After spending all morning in the valley (which was one of the most stunning places I’ve ever been), I drove up to Muley Point, which overlooks the valley and the Goose Necks (which you cannot see in the picture I’ve included here as it’s below the lip of canyon). There, I did an hour Yoga practice on the rocks and then sat for another hour before I took a single picture.

This all helped remind me again how much richer my life is when I give people, experiences, and beauty time and space to emerge in their own ways.

Upper Antelope Canyon

This post gives you: (1) tips on how to plan a trip here, (2) the story of my interactions with Logan, who grew up exploring the canyons before they were tourist destinations, and (3) my reflections on visiting one of the most iconic photography locations in the world with only an old iPhone. Read on below…

Upper Antelope Canyon

Before planning a trip to see the canyons there are a handful of things you need to know. First, you can’t just show up, you need to pay for a tour (and they book up in advance)! The canyons are owned by several Navajo families, and they have authorized only several tour companies to operate tours. Second, the tours aren’t cheap or very long (often just 1-2 hours). Third, the famous “beams of light” in Upper Antelope only occur for part of the year. They start in late spring and peak in June. Fourth, each slot isn’t that long in distance. If you were to walk through Antelope, Owl, or Rattlesnake Canyons without stopping it wouldn't take more than a few minutes. Fifth, depending on the time of day you go you may be jammed into Antelope canyon so many people it’ll feel like Disney World. (To deal with this they now sell “photography tours” at times when they limit the number of others in the canyon - for a premium). Sixth a different set of Navajo families own '“Lower Antelope Canyon”, so if you want to see that you have to book a completely different tour.

Taken together, does this mean don’t go? No way!

I loved my morning in and above the slots. I’ve never been in anything like them before. The shape of rocks, the colors, the shadows … even with others around was more than worth it. I also picked the time of my tour (early morning) and the tour company carefully to mitigate a number of the issues. (More on this below…)

The shadows in Upper Antelope Canyon were magical

Exploring Rattlesnake Canyon

After agonizing over which tour to take, I choose Antelope Canyon Photo Tours. It was expensive, but I had a fantastic morning! When the other family that was supposed to be part of my tour didn’t show up, my tour ended up being a private one. So I got all morning alone with Logan, a Navajo man who had grown up literally next to the canyons. He had so many stories of both him and his family camping, hiking, riding, and even partying in the slots (in the 1980s and 1990s). In addition to the nature, I was fascinated to hear about what his Navajo heritage meant to him, the debates they were having in the schools now around continuing to teach the language, the recent economic uptick in Page all due to Canyon tourism (apparently almost no one came to the Canyons before the late 1990s), the recent building of a $1,000+ / night Amman hotel near the canyons (my Best Western cost $59 by contrast and it was great), as well as the controversy over closing the local coal plant which locals believe is causing high cancer rates.

When we weren’t talking about those broader topics, he was a man on a mission! He had his tour down to an art. He moved fast, knew exactly where to stop, which angles to take pictures at, and what settings to use. He told me he’d stop more if I wanted, but I felt guilty slowing him down, even though I was the client! In retrospect, that is another good learning for me, and entirely consistent with the rest of my life I need to speak up for what I need versus always trying to appease whoever I’m with and silently feeling frustrated.

My guide. As you can see the geology is very different here than in the Upper Antelope Canyon with its overhangs that make you feel like you are in a cave

On the bright side, we had wonderful time talking and exploring for almost four hours through multiple slots, and other than Antelope Canyon, we were completely alone in all of these slots. My favorite was Mountain Sheep - which was the most remote (our giant truck almost got stuck multiple times on the way there and back).

My guide walking ahead into Mountain Sheep Canyon.

At the back of the slot, after getting through all the usual paths, he asked me if I wanted to go “up and over, instead of back through the canyon”. Of course I did!

At times, it got to be a bit precarious. But it was more than worth it.

Here we had to grab hard on the bush to pull ourselves up. Definitely not on the normal trail… but take a look at the rock formations we found on the top in the next set of photos!

Looking down into Owl Canyon - on another one of our off road adventures (this one was less precarious). I wish someone was down there for scale. It was probably at least 20 feet from the top where I was standing to the bottom.

Not only were some of the views down into the slots breathtaking, but I also loved hearing how our scrambling made him think of his childhood and his brother. It was clear he looked up to his brother (even as an adult) - and had so many fond memories of adventuring with him when they were children.

The main disappointment of the morning was that I didn’t have my camera during any of the adventures, just an iPhone. On the bright side it opened up better conversation and the ability to be more adventurous. I also felt like I got some okay shots Antelope, but I know with my big camera and tripod it would have been totally different. Even though Upper Antelope Canyon is so well photographed, expensive to get into, and busy, I still want to come back later with all the right gear someday soon. (Also - to any photographers reading this - definitely use a wide angle lens!)

Near the entrance to Upper Antelope Canyon. We were lucky that no one else came into the canyon for more than 15 minutes after we entered it.

Destroying My Camera & Discovering New Friends at Marble Canyon

This post is the story of my first ever slot canyon hike. It was one of the most beautiful (and perhaps the most rewarding) hikes I’ve ever done. It is also a story about how I fell, got soaked, and broke my camera and phone before I even got to the bouldering section. Later, the story continues into how I met new friends, and how we problem solved the remainder of the climb together over many hours. If you are adventurous and are in Page - you HAVE to do this hike. Read on below…

The sunset lit the far canyon walls spectacularly as we made our way back from the River to the trail head

The Cathedral Wash Trail which is within a mile of the entrance to the park - isn’t really a trail at all - but it may be the most beautiful and rewarding hike I’ve completed. It’s just over 3 miles round trip and only 400 vertical feet from the road to the Colorado River, but it’s some of the most challenging (non-rope) hiking I’ve ever done. The “trail" starts off in a wash where the “canyon” walls are barely a few feet high and quite far apart. There is no path - you simply follow the canyon down, any way you can. As you follow the wash toward the river the puddles at the center get deeper, the walls get closer together and much, much taller (see pictures below). After 15 or so minutes you will start to regularly cliff out. The trail requires significant trial and error - and that’s what made it so fun. I climb quite a bit, and even I had to turn around countless times to find new ways to go. If you do the trail and you get to a point where you think “I might need a rope to get back up here” - trust there is another way down, you just haven’t found it yet. I spent a lot of time agonizing at various points whether to turn around for fear if I went down, I wouldn’t be able to get back up later.

The hike was humbling for multiple reasons. Early on - I was so enamored with the beauty of the canyon walls that I decided to walk with my big camera out. At one point, I jumped down from a ledge to a puddle below thinking it was only an inch deep. It wasn’t. And as I sunk in I lurched forward and had to use my hands to prevent a much more serious fall. Both my camera and phone got soaked. My camera got fried and wouldn’t turn back on - but at least nothing was cracked. My phone still worked, but mud was jammed deep into the charging socket, so I wasn’t sure it if would get fried too.

The experience shook me mentally. I had been so happy before this. I’d been smiling like a fool and humming to myself. Up to this point on my journey - traveling alone had been all “ponies, picnics, and April sunshine”. The fall, which ruined my electronics and bruised my ego, but left me physically unharmed, made me realize this adventure isn’t riskless. I can enjoy the adventure, and I also need to be responsible and take my safety seriously.

There was nothing I could do about my electronics, so I pushed forward with the hike, paradoxically now much more aware of my surroundings than when I’d been trying to document every turn of the canyon walls.

Ten minutes later I got to point where I couldn’t figure out a way down on either side of the wash. There were separate couples on both sides attempting to find routes, but neither was having any luck. I spoke to both, and connected much better the older couple - probably in their early 60s. We strategized together for another five minutes before they decided to set up a rope and repel down. I didn’t feel comfortable repelling so I kept searching for another way down, which I eventually found. Once I did, and I ran into them again, we struck up a conversation and hiked the rest of the way to the river and back together. You will see them in all my photos down below.

Sharing the experience with them enriched my experience immensely. I loved hearing their life stories. He grew up in Alaska, had climbed Denali solo in his youth, had moved to San Francisco and met her at a Pilates class in the 1990s. Now their kids were in college, and they had retrofitted a van, which they take all over the west for weeks at a time to hike and explore. They were full of suggestions for hikes I should check out later in my adventure too (including Muley’s Point near Monument Valley and the Valley of Fire near Las Vegas).

Growing up I was so shy and was convinced I was an introvert. What I’m realizing now is I actually love meeting and talking to new people. I didn’t do it more, because I was afraid of rejection and awkwardness, and stressed out because I often trying so hard to be something or hide some part of myself. On this trip, I’ve just tried to be present as I am (so I’m not hiding or posturing) and to be fully present to whoever I am speaking to (so they know they are my number 1 priority). The has transformed the quality of my connection with others immensely.

Having these sorts of beautiful unexpected connections has brought me a lot of joy as well because it reminds me of my grandmother. She was always telling us stories of friends she and my grandfather met on their world travels. Throughout this trip, connecting with strangers has made me feel like I understand her better. That thought has made me smile and feel closer to her — even in her absence.

Below are a few pictures of other hikers in the canyon for a sense of scale. You’ll also see in the photos just how beautiful (and precarious) many of these paths were - requiring basic bouldering and use of all limbs - including gripping the cracks to keep your feet stable as you moved them.

Looking back at the entrance to the wash after we reached the Colorado River

When we finished the hike the sun was already setting. As I got into my car and tried to plug my phone into the car to charge it, I realized I couldn’t! The mud was so jammed into the ports that there was no way for me to charge it. I had a nearly full charge still, but how was I supposed to make the it the rest of the trip without a phone? There was nothing to do, so I thought it best to just drive back to the hotel and figure things out later.

On the way home I saw a Walmart. Jackpot! I had a vague notion that maybe compressed air could help dislodge the dirt once it dried, and maybe if I put the camera in a bag of rice that would help remove the water from the circuit.

As I went to bed, not having a phone or my camera, was a revelation. I hadn’t realized how much mental and physical energy I’ve been putting every evening into my electronics. I went to bed much earlier and with a much quieter mind.

My tools - purchased from Walmart that I used to fix my camera and phone

Little Colorado River Navajo Tribal Park

I found this place of pure wonder when I pulled off the road ~20 minutes to the east of the Grand Canyon National Park on highway 64. It was marked simply by a sign that said “scenic view”. From the road it was unclear what scenic view there’d be.

After a brief walk from the parking area the canyon edge, my jaw dropped. During all of my hiking in the National Park I only got brief glimpses of the lower canyons and the river below. I was mostly near the rim. Here, so close to the park entrance, everything was changed. It was all flat desert (with some mountains further away) and then just one, very deep cut into the desert that hid the River below. I hadn’t realized just now deep the lower canyons were, or the strange shapes the river twisted and turned.

I had plans to rush onward to Horseshoe Bend from there, but I found the view so arresting at the edge that I lingered for over an hour to watch the colors turn on the canyon walls.

Today was yet another affirmation that the best things in life often emerge when you leave space to be surprised, and are willing to say yes to adventures with unknown look-outs.

When I left the sun had already set behind a small mountain range, however the ranges to both the east and the north held the light and glowed a vermillion hue for what felt like an hour as the rest of the world turned to darkness. I wish I’d been able to capture it, but I don’t think it could be captured photographically. The scale of it was too immense. Below is one photo I did grab on my iPhone when many miles later the road hugged near one of the ranges.

I apologize for the truly terrible iPhone photo, but it gives you a sense of how the rocks held the color more than an hour after sunset. These rocks were close. What was more remarkable for looking out to the horizon and seeing miles and miles and miles of mountains like this lit up from far away.

Grand Canyon National Park

My first view of the Grand Canyon.

I sat on this point for almost three hours and only saw three other couples the entire time.

Sunset from the south rim. It looked like there wouldn’t be any light, but it broke through and lit up the bottoms of the clouds for a moment before it dipped below the horizon

I’d scouted out this spot during the day, and stood there for over 2 hours watching the sunset. When I came back after dark, my legs were trembling with every step as I neared the ledge. Once I got there my hands were shaking as I set up my tripod for fear and cold. Then later because of the wind, I had to hold the legs of the tripod during each 30 second exposure for fear my equipment go flying off the edge. Intellectual, I knew I was safe, but my mind kept tricking me. Only after 30 minutes alone on the ledge did my fears finally subside. That was when I was finally be present to the experience. Once there, I found unexpected reservoirs of joy and wonder, which had been completely inaccessible when I was consumed by fear.

My 2019 Sabbatical - Reasons, Goals, Plans, and Early Learnings

Friends and family - I have exciting news! I’ve left my job and embarked on a year-long sabbatical. I feel energized, joyful, nervous, and hopeful for what lies ahead. I want to share with you my reasons, my goals, my tentative plans, and what I’ve learned so far. I also want to let you know how to best support me during this time. (Keep reading below…)

Reasons:

I’m more than a decade into my career, and I feel so grateful for the jobs I’ve had. I’ve learned so much, been challenged intellectually, and met so many brilliant colleagues, bosses, and leaders. The work has been rewarding in many ways, including equipping me to serve several non-profits I am passionate about, especially the Minnesota Orchestra. 

However, over Christmas when a friend asked me what I was hoping for in 2019 (both at work and more broadly) – I went blank. As I reflected, I realized I’d have been equally nonplussed if he’d asked me, “What are you hoping for in the rest of your life?” 

Why? Yes, 2017 and 2018 were full of setbacks. However, I thought I’d weathered them and responded with grit. When my two mentors quit at work, I doubled down, earned new responsibilities, higher pay, and a new title. When some of the most important relationships in my life fell apart, I was devastated, but I worked hard to make new friends. When my grandmother was diagnosed with cancer, I tried to make the best of it, and made sure to see her 1-2 times per week. When I felt my body and mind were getting weak from obsessing on work, I recommitted to piano lessons, running 15-20 miles every weekend, learning to rock climb, and reading several books per month. My CV for 2017-2018 was full, and these experiences helped me grow. However, as I reflect now, I realize my ways of thinking and being were the same as before – as were my goals, dreams, and fears. I was fundamentally the same person, just further along “the achievement path.” I was tired, but onwards I went – soldiering on, working hard to find and earn the next affirmation.

Until January -- everything changed. In the aftermath of it all, especially my grandmother’s death, a number of things became clear to me. One, I too will die. Even if it is decades away, it will come soon. Two, my “achievements” felt hollow. Three, at the deepest level I was not happy – not in general, and certainly not with myself. Four, I knew so many people wanted to care for me, and yet I felt trapped in my loneliness and isolation. Five, I was exhausted. Yes, I could probably keep on keeping on, but increasingly I was asking myself, “why bother?”. And lastly, I knew I should be overwhelmed with grief, but I felt emotionally deadened, and I couldn’t find any tears. 

These were not happy revelations. And initially I didn’t know what to do with them. Thankfully, a number of unexpected conversations (with strangers, friends I hadn’t spoken to in years, and mentors) changed that. In these conversations I learned many of their stories. In many of them there was a moment when the bottom dropped out and that person chose (or was forced to choose) to make a radical break from the path they had been on. For those that embraced the invitation to change – the person often ended up taking 6-12 months away from “life as usual”. Some explored new passions, some healed, others went deeper into their old passions in new ways. For all of them this “time-away” led them to re-examine themselves, dream new dreams, and try living differently than before. Some came back to their prior field, some moved on. All of them said the experience transformed them. 

Hearing these stories struck a chord for me, and immediately I knew that I needed to take a sabbatical. Moreover, I realized I have the time, health, resources, and lack any immediate responsibilities to do it now. So, I asked myself, if not now, when?

My Goals for the Sabbatical

I realize how rare this opportunity is, so I want to be intentional about how I am using this time. Below are the goals that have emerged for me. I am using this list to determine how to spend my time:

·     Heal: grieve what’s been lost, take responsibility for my mistakes, and regain my physical and emotional vitality 

·     Reflect: cultivate greater self-awareness and compassion for myself and others 

·     Explore (my passions and the world): say yes to activities that give me life and are different from what I was doing before in my work -- creatively, physically, spiritually, and intellectually 

·     Re-imagine: who I am and what is possible in my life

·     Discern: where I’m going next

What I’ve Done So Far and My Plan

· Winter: one day this winter my yoga teacher approached me and suggested I sign up for an intensive Level 1 teacher training with Barron Baptiste. Historically, I would have dismissed the idea outright (… the time, cost, impracticality, and I’d never heard of Barron!). However, something in my gut told me to “say yes”; also, as I analyzed it, it fit with so many of my 2019 goals (healing, reflecting, and exploring). The training was only a week away and I didn’t know if I could still sign up. I decided – why not try. So, I called asking to be let in. They said yes. So, I got a ticket and flew to Sedona days later. 

I’m so glad I did! It was the most transformational experience I’ve ever had. Taken together -- the meditation, inquiry, discussion, practice teaching, and asana practice --helped me to see patterns in my life that were invisible to me before. At the core of it, I realized that I have long believed that “I don’t deserve to be loved.” I see now that that story has been silently shaping my life choices, self-talk, and how I have been present with others my entire life. I also now understand why it’s been so hard for me to let this belief go and what it has cost me – including years of self-imposed loneliness, lack of pride at my accomplishments, broken relationships, unnecessary conflict, fear-based decisions, and alienation from people who wanted to support me. Seeing this was very painful at first. However, once I realized its absurdity, and that this doesn’t have to be my story anymore, everything shifted. That is who I was, it is not who I truly am. Who I truly am is caring, joyful, open, and confident. This realization has made me feel more empowered, energized, and joyful than any time I can remember. 

[I also came out of the training certified to teach yoga – so, if anyone wants a private yoga lesson I’d love to teach you :) ].

· Spring and Early Summer: As I brainstormed what projects to pursue next, my old dream of hiking every National Park and National Forest in the US kept coming back to me. The more I thought about it, the more it felt right. While on the road I will develop artistically (photographing and writing), intellectually (history, geology, ecology, biology, and environmental conservation), and physically (hiking, climbing, and camping). Doing it as a multi-month trip (similar to when I walked the Camino with my family) really appealed to me as well. When I move slowly and give ideas space to emerge I see the world in new ways – and that’s exactly what I want right now. Lastly being on the road for so long will change me in unexpected ways as I connect with old friends, meet new people, get lost, discover new paths, face unexpected danger, confront old fears, have time to reflect, and discover new vistas. I did a trail week on the road a few weeks ago, and now have fully committed to it after leaving Minnesota again earlier this week. 

· Late Summer and Fall: I realize that even in the next few months I may see only a portion of our National Parks. So, as the summer goes on I may continue with the project, or I may shift my focus entirely to something different – perhaps volunteering at a nonprofit or a presidential campaign, taking a long trip through Asia, or doing something I haven’t conceived of yet. I want to hold open the space to see what emerges and feels right as I transform.

How to Support Me During This Next Phase

·     If you live in the west: I hope to see you. 

·     If you have traveled in the west: recommendations for hikes, climbs, experiences, and people I should meetalong the way

·     If you consume social media: let me know what you think of my photographs and reflections. If you like what I post, please encourage others to follow my page

·     If you are religious: prayers for safety and discernment 

·     If you call, email, or text me: please be patient if I’m slow to respond

·     For everyone: if you ever went on a similar journey of self-discovery – I’d love to hear your story and how your adventure changed you

Conclusion

Joseph Campbell once wrote: “If you can see your path laid out in front of you step by step, you know it's not your path.” Before January, I imagined I could see the path I was on and its shape all the way to grave. Now that I’ve jumped off to make my own path, I don’t know what lies ahead – but here we go… thank you for walking beside me as I venture into this new, exciting and still unknown world of possibilities.