March 11th, 2022. Las Cruces, New Mexico
We woke up to snow over the Organ Mountains. Snow in the desert is unlike anything else. The contrast of the deep red against the clean white snow is dissonant, like a Jazz tune. And you know it’ll just be a matter of hours before the sun peeks through the clouds to melt away the cold. The polarity of the desert is strange, too. You can bake and freeze all in the same day. And you kindof have to appreciate the honesty in that. It’s cold or hot, and seldom anything in between, because the “in between” is ambiguous.
We stopped at Planet Fitness for a hot shower after our awe of the snow dissipated. I needed to wash away a week’s worth of sand, dust, and sweat. And when I stumbled into the bathroom, my jaw dropped. I hadn’t seen myself in the mirror in 10 days.
The skin of the person who was staring back at me was a deep brown, cracked and leathered by the sun. Her features were pronounced, and painted with a natural blush. I decided that I liked her. The girl in the mirror was too busy doing and being to give a shit about what she looked like. Her expression of the self could be seen in the mountains and the routes that were external of her — and in climbing the routes she created internal ones, too — a map work to herself, and to the the crevices of her identity that were unscathed by opinions and expectations.
I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve lost sight of my reflection. And every time I was obsessively pursuing, aggressively being, or forging a path to a new and better version of myself. I was a verb instead of a noun, throwing myself into a mission like nothing else mattered.
It was only through letting go of my appearance and other’s view of me that I was able to see who I was, peering into the window of my own soul. Maybe that’s why I hold long-distance backpacking and climbing in such high regard. At a performative level, they still contain all of the vision-blinding ego that we’re indoctrinated by. But when you get into the meat of these sports, and you stop broadcasting what you’re doing, you remember what it’s like to simply be. I hope that everyone is able to find that place for just a while. It’s full of prickly pears, a certain kind of sweetness, and a whole fucking lot of simplicity.
The wilderness is the antidote to society. It allows us to return to that which we are instead of pretending to be otherwise. And I’m grateful to New Mexico, the mirror, and 10 days of pura vida for bringing me back to myself.
For More Inspiration:
