I was able to sneak a day off work Friday so I did what I almost always do when my head and heart are as disordered as they are this week, and I headed for a trail into the mountains.
The day mostly looked convincingly of November, the sky stubbornly flat and colorless, the ground covered in the pale husks of summer’s grasses and flowers. A biting wind swirled about the tops, thwarting my several attempts to hunker down in the lee of some fine rocks to contemplate the view, outward and inward. So I ate my lunch quickly, smugly appreciated my hot tea, and kept moving.
Which was fine, I didn’t need ideal conditions or to think deep thoughts. I needed to feel the ache in my lungs and the effort in my legs as I climbed up a mountain. I needed to be distracted by distant peaks and the vast sea, to be reassured by the sway of old, old trees. I needed some quiet.
I have been a tangle of feelings and thoughts since the election, and frankly, the last few weeks before. I feel betrayed. I feel disappointed and scared and very unsettled. I feel vulnerable, and also keenly aware of my privilege.
I feel completely inadequate and yet determined to speak up, to stand up, to do something. Starting by sharing a little honesty from this corner.