Second Chances
Hello friends! I'm back from a long absence. From my previous content on this blog, you can probably infer without much difficulty that it was for mental health reasons, but I'm happy to report that such reasons have been successfully moderated. That said, I have many things to report and not much space in this blog post to report them. As such, I will be posting a few updates on what exactly I got up to over the past seven months or so, much of which was excellent and life-affirming.
Long story short: I was carrying quite a bit of baggage from my past, and the circumstances in my life arranged themselves conveniently to topple the house of cards I'd constructed over the past decade of my life. This happenstance was, as we say in the profession, not good. After a period of intensive care, I rebuilt the foundations holding up my psyche, went on a several-months-long (mostly) backcountry adventure in the American West, and successfully returned to school with a moderate amount of hitches. All in all, I'm lucky to be here and glad for it. More to the point, I'm incredibly grateful for all of the love, care, and compassion I received from my friends, family, professors, counselors, etc. Without them, I'd have surely thrown it all away.
Things are not perfect, and I suspect they never will be. But I've finally come to understand my limits in a way that allows to find peace in my faults, my fallibility. Part of it is admitting I have a chronic illness that will likely not leave anytime soon; the other part is understanding that this fact does not represent my whole reality. I can and will live a good life despite, in spite of, and perhaps due to the interesting things my brain does. To even be capable of vocalizing this attitude represents an immense improvement in my health over the past year.
For me, September is the beginning of a new year. It will be a better year. It will be a year of hope, joy, beauty, and love. It will be a year of hardship, struggle, loss, and disappointment. Most of all, it will be the first of many years to come—because I survived, even though ten months ago I was certain I wouldn't live to see the end of 2025. I pray to the earth and the sky that I will not let this second chance go.
A sheer cliff face in Arizona's Superstition Mountains, east of Phoenix.
The volcanic San Francisco Peaks, the highest mountain range in Arizona and the parent of Humprheys Peak, the highest point in the state.
A view from within the Grand Canyon, which was, infuriatingly, cloudy and rainy every day I hiked through it.
Eagle Rock, an iconic view of the Pacific Crest Trail's arid SoCal section.
A tantalizing glimpse of the southern Sierra Nevada's bare, angular peaks from just north of Kennedy Meadows.
Glittering stars in Sequoia National Park.
Helen Lake, an enormous alpine lake in the High Sierra located just northeast of stunning Muir Pass.
The view from Cloud's Rest in Yosemite National Park, perhaps the most magnificent vista I've ever laid my eyes upon.