As I sit in the wet (and somehow chilly?) sixty-five degree weather in California, my snow-covered trail hikes in Colorado are a foggy memory. It is hard to believe that I was drinking in that crisp air, and quieting my soul above timberline a mere week ago. Last Tuesday, my friend Frankie and I headed out with our Camelbacks and vaguely cool "mountainwear" and hit the oh-so-strenuous trails of Red Rock Canyon (pretty sure we climbed at least twenty feet, and tread an unbelievable and vast...3.5 miles :-)). Although we did pass some runners, old ladies with walking sticks, and dogs walking their paunchy owners, enough time elapsed in-between to give us the sense of embarking on an isolated wilderness excursion.
The only sounds were the steady crunch of our boots on the fleecey white blanket that hid the crimson mud and dusty trail tracks. The sun kissed our faces, the fresh, exhilirating air infused us with a sense of joy...usually as chatty, giggly, and possibly as annoying as sanguine, pre-angsty, pre-adolscent girls, Frankie and I trudged along in a comfortable silence. It's hard not to feel as though God is whispering through those moments, and I think we both wanted to perk up and pay attention to His quiet voice.
And then, as we made our way to a bend in the trail, about a mile from the trailhead that poured us into the canyon, Frankie spotted something...wildlife...pouncing and scampering less than a football field's length away. Now, I definitely possess an adventurous spirit, and am a self-confessed former adrenaline junkie, but I hold a weird and overwhelming phobia that I will, one day...as I trounce through a hidden trail...be eaten by a mountain lion. The authorities will only find my iPad, sneakers, and stock of Cliff Bars (as even mountain lions sense the chewy cardboard consistencies of these "protein bars")...or, I will survive, but as a horribly disfigured shell of my former self. People will mock and scurry away from my presence, but I will bravely speak of God's Grace and Healing through what's left of my lips. Thus, I have the wherewithall to know that any wildlife bigger than a fox is not something I desire to interact with, nor see without safety glass separating us.
Frankie, on the other hand, is fearless. So, when she broke our wonderful silence with "Oh my gosh! What's that?", and took off running toward the side of the trail, I knew that nothing good could come from this. I looked up, and saw two animals--larger than dogs, but not quite wolf-size in stature--running together, and taking notice of us. "Oh, ky-oats!!" Frankie exclaimed (she uses the "ol' prospector" pronounciation as opposed to Wile E.'s last name), and camera-ready, she began to move TOWARD them. Seriously. TOWARD...THEM...
"Um...Frankie? I think maybe we should head back," I nervously began to backpedal as I repeated this with some urgency in my voice. "Oh no! C'mon, Sarah--we'll be fine." She continued to approach the two coyotes, who, by this point, had most definitely taken notice of us, and were licking their chops and looking at us as if we were Simba. Okay, those were hyenas, and this may be a slight exaggeration...but not by much. "Dude," I said as I halted, "they're totally going to eat your face off."
She shockingly ignored me (?!), and grew even closer to them. I stood for a moment, wondering if I would suddenly develop a surge of adrenaline that would enable me to rip the coyotes' treacherous jaws from the face of my friend when it came time....and panicked about the survivor's guilt that was sure to follow. But, after Frankie took myriad pictures, and safely moved ahead of the wild dogs, I had no choice but to run and join her. And, we were...fine. We moved far away from Wile E. and his BFF...and, because we hadn't turned back (as I would surely have done on my own), we got to delve into the heart of the canyon, and experience the cool rock formations and pre-set photo compositions that create the best part of this hike.
As I reflect on this, though, I realize a couple of things. The truth of the matter is that if given the chance, or if provoked, coyotes will indeed, eat your face off. The best frame of mind to sit in, in this situation, is a balanced pendulum somewhere in-between myself and Frankie. And, I think that's true of life as well.
I wonder when I grew so afraid? In my rock climbing, ropes courses, kayaking, parasailing, hang-gliding, rafting, and sky-diving days, I tried to mask this fear of all by acting as reckless as possible which in and of itself is fear personified...I started this walk with God trying in vain to mask this fear, but, it also made me willing to jump off the cliff at the say-so. And through heart wounds, betrayals, and failures...through meandering pathways and dimly-lit roads, I developed a clouded wall of fear that I have to actively and consciously poke holes in.
But sometimes, this is healthy. This is not always a bad thing. There are coyotes in life--situations and people--who if approached without caution and wisdom, will devour you. The people who personify this wild animal can be family members, friends, those who tread the path with us...people who never dealt with their own fear, and project it onto others. The situations are those that look beautiful on the surface...that we plunge into without a second thought...and then reveal their true rabid natures.
The trick is to learn to guard your heart while simultaneously opening and exposing it.
I worried about Frankie getting mauled, but the truth is, because I hung back and stayed paralyzed in my fear, I missed the beauty that the coyotes held. And the above photo is Frankie's, not mine.
So, I think I will keep my caution, and remember the times that I have faced my own coyotes. But, I will not allow this to prevent me from experiencing the richness of true friendship, of true love, of living Life. I will keep my fear beside me, but not allow it to remain a monkey on my back. By confidently walking past the coyotes, I will open myself up to the great unburdening freedom that a relationship with God offers. I will enjoy the beauty and hardships of the hike, and I will get to the inner sanctum of the canyon.
"Amazing things appear in our lives, almost out of nowhere--landscapes, seascapes, forgiveness--and they keep happening; so many vistas and so much healing to give thanks for. Even when we don't cooperate, blessings return to our lives, even in the aftermath of tragedy.
Things get a little better when we ask for help. People help us. Most astonishing of all, people forgive us, and we eventually forgive them. Talk about miracles."
-"Help. Thanks. Wow." Anne Lamott
Again, thanks for reading.
I love it, Sarah. "because I hung back and stayed paralyzed in my fear, I missed the beauty that the coyotes held".....
ReplyDeleteThanks so much, Pam!! And thanks for reading. Love you, lady.
DeleteGreat job, Sarah. I had to laugh as I could actually hear you laughing as you tried to convince Frankie to hold back...and then when she didn't, I could hear you say, "NO SERIOUSLY." ;) Right? Anyway, I enjoyed this a lot, especially this part which I read 3 times: "There are coyotes in life--situations and people--who if approached without caution and wisdom, will devour you. The people who personify this wild animal can be family members, friends, those who tread the path with us...people who never dealt with their own fear, and project it onto others. The situations are those that look beautiful on the surface...that we plunge into without a second thought...and then reveal their true rabid natures." (I know that isn't the most pleasant part to stick out, but it did for me this week). Keep writing! I enjoy it myriad a lot. ;)
ReplyDeleteThanks so much, Tara. Thank you for the support and encouragement--it truly means a tremendous amount to me! And, thank you so, so much for continuing to read and give feedback as well...
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