The good that comes from doing hard things

We just got back from a 10-day trip to Oregon. It is a stunning place. We hiked in the high desert, among waterfalls in pine and deciduous forests, and in the rainforest near the Pacific ocean. We did more in 10 days there than most Oregonians do in 5 years, said my intrepid adventurer husband James Brown. He would know - he lived there for 16 years. We went to connect with friends and family, and to introduce them to Goldie, who turned one last month.

It was a tough trip, and I am so glad we went. Things are getting a lot better, but I still struggle with panic attacks when Goldie cries and I can’t get space from her (like in the car). And she's a baby - she's going to cry. The trip was James' idea and after all we've been through over the last 2 years, I really wanted to show up for him and have a great time out West. I wouldn't have done it without him, and I couldn't have done it without him. James isn’t afraid of doing hard things, and when sh*t hit the fan, he was supportive in the ways I needed him to be. 

It’s a beautiful thing, having people in our lives who encourage us to set our sights high. And all the more so when they stick with us as we navigate towards our desires.

Yes, it was really hard not to have childcare while we were traveling - I’m used to having more help. And it was also magnificent to see the splendor of the West Coast. Our trip to Crater Lake was particularly challenging, and also one of the coolest things I’ve ever done. Crater Lake is over 1,900 feet deep. The lake is Caribbean blue and unbelievably clear. It’s set in the middle of a volcano, so it’s isolated from other bodies of water, and is the tenth cleanest large body of water in the world. The only way to swim in the lake is to hike down a steep mile of switchbacks. 

Cold water has long been a strong medicine for me, and Crater Lake is as cold as any I’ve been in. Immersing in water like this has deep spiritual significance - the water is a direct connection to the Great Mother. I planned to dive in, but ended up sort of belly flopping. So much for grace in my big spiritual moment . 

The water was so cold that it didn’t really hurt - I was too busy relearning how to breathe with the temperature change. I swam around for a while and then sat on the warm rock while I dried off a bit. As the sun descended, I cried with gratitude that I’m still alive. There were times in the recent past where hopelessness was so present, I wasn’t sure if I would make it. And there I was, having leapt into the cleanest, most magical water I’ve ever seen. James carried Goldie back up in her hiking pack, and I went ahead, doing a combo of sprinting with joy and sitting in gratitude. At one of my stops, a little lizard and I sat next to each other while I marveled at the view. I LOVE lizards. It was a sweet moment.

We all know it, and with the way life throws us curveballs, it can’t hurt to repeat it: doing hard things can make us stronger and fill us with more spirit - more love for ourselves, our planet, and each other. And thank f*ck, ‘cause hard things are called hard things for a reason. Here’s to the boomerang of joy that comes from steady practice through the challenges.

Update: Initially, I said that the lake is 19,000 feet deep. James read the post, said it was a very nice post and suggested that it might not be that deep. It's 1,900 feet. Felt like 19,000.