Despite the airport security delays prohibiting my grande hot hazelnut latte with almond milk, I still boarded that plan with high hopes. Six hours of freedom. Yes, I was strictly confined most of the ride with the seatbelt sign still illuminated, a full plane making itself known with the small child crying directly behind me, and air-tight locked doors 30,000 feet in the air, but my mind was finally free. Stuck in a seat that barely reclines for six hours takes away the pressure of daily life that creeps into free time because there is always something to do, but here one cannot make that ever-waiting dentist appointment, finish crossing off to-do lists, or scroll on TikTok for more hours than most would like to admit. Luckily for me, entering a void that only books and my own thoughts can fill is like my own personal sector of heaven, but that is where it all went downhill. Yeah I read the entirety of The Summer I Turned Pretty, but an unpopular opinion overcame me and I did not enjoy the frivolous novel like the internet seems to in a worshiping manner. That alone was not enough to tip my own plane of imagination into a devastating nosedive, but the empty notebook pages were. I am a writer, right? I am supposed to write in times like these when I can see my life from a better point of view and if I cannot do it now then why am I emptying my pockets of money that I do not have to spend the next four years, and hopefully a lifetime, writing?
To set the dramatics aside, time seemingly had been passing me by. I graduated high school, went to numerous highly anticipated events, went on senior week for goodness sake, and now was flying across the country on my dream vacation- I should have felt like I'm in a movie and yet I sat there with empty notebook pages for six hours. I had to start being more present because I can not afford to let these memories escape before I make something out of them. It is funny how I have gone through so many milestones this year yet I felt the cameras rolling most often doing the simple things: walks of solitude in the woods, staying up all night to finish that book when I just have to know how it ends, finally piecing together that song on guitar I had been trying to learn and even just that first sip of coffee in the morning. Cutting off the once again prevalent rambling, I set out on this trip to Washington State in search of feeling, presence, and mindfulness which are all things I usually keep very close to me at all times.
It was not until the end of my trip, after I saw my first West Coast sunset, ended up in a rainforest, climbed to 10,000 feet of a mountain, and played in the snow during July, that I realized mindfulness was with me the whole time. It presented itself in small moments, easy-to-overlook moments that I very much did. On the descent of our first big hike and frankly the most strenuous and technical one I have completed, we passed an older couple whom we saw a couple of times previously along the journey. They too were getting out of their car when we were but managed to get a head start while still lacing our shoes, we passed them when my legs were still spry, then they passed us when I was in a tear-filled asthma attack, and we saw them when the wife was doing handstands at the top, and once more in the last half of the descent when my hands and knees were bleeding from the ropes and rocks and covered again with a layer of powdery dirt. I mostly kept my head
down to ensure proper foot placements and warning of loose ground, but when I looked up, I saw the man in this couple with a proud grin on his face that I had made it and he conveyed this further with a grandfatherly fist bump. Something in that moment made me want to cry because I too was proud and I often feel like this in those big moments that you find in the smallest of things, and that's mindfulness to me. It does not always have to be that grand as the same sort of smile filled with genuine joy was painted over my lips covered in peach juice when I finally indulged in the perfectly ripe fruit once we reached the top because I forgot was in my pack. I swear that peach was better than the view, and the view was gorgeous. Later that week, after tending to the blisters left on my feet from this day, I tried on new hiking boots while passing through an actual town, which comes far and few between out there. That same illuminating feeling overwhelmed me as if walking on clouds for the first time. Now with my new boots, I was ready to do some hiking around the base of Mount Rainier before setting out on the real thing to get used to the snow, the spikes, and the hiking poles which are all different than on my usual trails back home. The snow actually covered all the trails here so it was hard to stay on track, but luckily the lovely National Park ranger was there to scold us for our wrongdoings before sparking a conversation leading to a partial life story. She was born in raised in Germany where she joined climbing groups meant for men and then later found herself in the states where she met her husband, although he was not of the same adventure type. He preferred her not to ever summit because it was not worth losing the love of his life and even after he passed, his wishes stayed obeyed, although age might have more of a handicap on that opportunity now. That woman was a force to be reckoned with and she made it known, but it was her love for the mountains that kept her there so much so that I am sure even if she did not work for the park she would still be out there every day. She lit up such an inspiration in me that I too saw her love-filled lens of the mountains surrounding us and I could not wait to experience it for myself, not just reach our destination. This is mindfulness.
It turns out I did not actually have to go across the country to find this sense of mindfulness, but that is where I found it plus I get cool stories, pictures, and even better memories. Letting go of the pressure is where I really found the truth. I will continue to take that lesson with me as I go about my life and start to enter a very pressured time... college. Now in contrast to the flight out where this post started, I wrote journals and poems on the plane ride home, developed expansive ideas for future blog posts, and even slept while watching a movie after the ten days I spent living life. And pro-tip before I sign off: if you are thinking "am I being mindful enough," chances are you might even be too mindful.
-Emma Claire