Dear Wilderness,
You are many things to many people. They say you are beautiful. They say you are freeing. They say that you will change me. Perhaps because I am passionately curious, or maybe just because I want to try all of the things, I have decided to meet you this summer.
Truth be told, I am questioning that decision constantly, especially as the appointed time comes nearer. I have not met you yet, and I am anxious about what I will find. You have already revealed so much to me about myself. You are to me the challenge I must overcome.
I am meant to prepare for this challenge, as an athlete does before competing. Wilderness, I should clarify that I am the opposite of an athlete. I am trying to get myself to the gym consistently and it is hard. I am busy with work, and school, and some kind of a social life. I am tired. I hate the way I feel every night that I don’t get in that dang workout. I also hate the way I feel after every workout - a little like I am dying. I’d like to feel like I’m winning here just once.
I am giving up so many things so that I might meet with you. When I think of what it costs to get to you, it hurts a little. Roughing it is a costly version of vacation. Why does it cost so much to experience nothingness?! I am giving up a week of vacation days, a slew of concerts, and a number of other desirable things in exchange for a time with little to no comfort where the primary activity is walking for hours. Wilderness, can we acknowledge that the decision to make this exchange defies logic?
Can I tell you something a bit uncomfortable, Wilderness? I am black. That is not the uncomfortable thing. The thing is, in my experience, black people are not wilderness people. Life is hard enough without trying to make it so. The same might be said of the black experience historically, and even now. So it seems that black people (and many non-white cultures) would prefer vacations that do not involve any semblance of hardship.
Wilderness, you are my great unknown. I don’t know how we will get along and I have already imagined several worst case scenarios. What if I encounter some wild and hungry creature in your midst? What if I slip, and fall, and hit some jagged ledge along the way? What if my undoing is smaller than my biggest fears? What if I simply cannot sleep for three days straight, because I’m surrounded by crawling and slithering things on the uncomfortable ground each night? What if I am simply not cut out for this?
I am not the kind of girl who goes camping, much less hiking in the middle of nowhere. Each time I told a friend that I intended to take this trip I was met with uproarious laughter. This is not a joke or an exaggeration. My friends and family literally laughed out loud at the prospect of me taking this trip. I’m not mad about it. I suppose I might have laughed too if I hadn’t been me. Someone who loves me very much has been trying to talk me out of this trip just about every day.
I’ve said a lot, but I want you to understand where I am coming from and how hard this is. I want you to know that despite how hard it is, I intend to meet you still. I want you to know all that I hope for. I want my time with you to show me more about myself. I want to learn that I am stronger than I feel right now. I want to find that you are as beautiful and as freeing as people say. I want to experience peace where you are. I want to encounter the creator of you and of me in a magnificent way. I know that I am hoping for a lot, but I am stepping out on faith to make this happen, and I have to believe that all this and more can happen when I meet you. Please don’t disappoint.
See you soon,
Moriah