in (a very late) memorial of my successful completion of the John Muir Trail (JMT) in California during the summer of 2024, i wanted to survey my memory of that time now that the dust has (long) settled and present the top few life learnings from my time on the trail.
a year ago, to this very moment of writing, i was sweating my way down the 200+ mile JMT. the trail starts in the valleys of Yosemite National Park and ends at the summit of Mt. Whitney— the tallest peak in the lower 48 states.
during this time, i spent 20 days outdoors, with a quick layover in town at Independence obtaining my third food resupply and picking up my father, who hiked the last four days with me. other than that, i was alone, with my mind, in the woods.
so, here are the top five lessons i learned from hiking 200 miles alone.
1. Everything you need, is already in front of you
a classic mission when thru-hiking is to “find oneself,” and i was no different. i wanted to find a mission, purpose, or anything that could get me out of my active addiction and depression.
i was hoping some shiny new idea would magically plop down into my conscious purview, resulting in a vivid state of enlightenment: a new hobby interest, venture, or permanent click into a new way of being.
but what became clear on the trail was that what i needed was already in front of me— begging for deeper attention and devoted effort. i had a half-finished album awaiting my return, intense grad school classes haunting me overhead, and a paralyzing addiction to address.
i didn’t need something new, i needed to wake up.
2. Take care of the present, & the rest will be taken care of
preparing for a hike that was five times as long as my then longest backpack was a serious and anxiety inducing undertaking.
since i hiked it in august, i spent the summer in preparation, and at times, in bed being consumed by paralyzing anxiety. until the end of the trail, i didn’t know if i could pull something this gregarious off. i couldn’t hike the whole journey in my mind beforehand in order to please my anxiety, rather i had to step into the chilling unknowningness.
but upon embarking on my journey, what became crisply clear was that i didn’t need to know how to walk 200 miles. i needed to know how to walk one step.
and that, i sure know how to do.
the old adage of “a journey of a thousand miles begins with one step” truly came in handy.
the organic nature of discovering this truth helped meld this lesson into my heart’s knowing as wisdom, not merely intellectual comprehension.
to me, this meant that:
“Wherever doing my best ends me up is where I need to be.” - Trail Journal
take care of the small & mundane of your day and all else will fall into place.
3. Drop all expectations
after carefully curating and marking the trails on my phone map, i downloaded the maps offline so that i could access it without cell-phone reception.
funnily enough, a bug occurred in the app, and while it saved which direction to go, the elevation gain data was corrupt and didn’t display.
(for those who don’t know, elevation gain is the best-friend metric to total miles, essentially helping one understand how difficult or strenuous the day ahead would be.)
without this data, i felt worried. i needed to know how hard the days ahead were! so i can mentally prepare! right?
then it hit me. to use this falter as a lesson.
i actually didn’t need to know the elevation gain for each day, i was going to hike it regardless.
in life, this lesson can be integrated by curbing over-preparation, becoming explicitly aware of expectations around how things should go, and allowing space for what could be, to be.
as buddhist teachings share, suffering comes from the gap between reality and our expectations.
stop trying to predict the future and find confidence in knowing you can handle whatever comes.
4. A tree can only extend its branches as deep as its roots
a couple of the main elements in the trail life is a multitude of rocks and trees.
while the rocks remained lifeless and consistent along the way, with each mile, each tree i saw became a closer and closer trail companion.
their living nature became obvious to me as they danced in the wind, grew through rock formations, and shaded my most overheated moments.
therefore— the analogy of a tree was hard to escape.
the way i primarily interpreted this analogy was through how i exist in the world.
having moved more times than i can count in my life, stability versus expansion has always been a dichotomy hard to master.
“We can’t only extend. Yet, without extending, we wither without proper sunlight. On the other extreme, if we only root down, we are filled, but not satisfied.” - Trail Journal
i see the rootedness of a tree representing one’s stability, comfort, and routine. the ability to predict what’s next, know what we are doing, and where we belong. all noble things.
on the other hand, extended branches represent our soul’s longing to become our highest potential. trying new things, joining new communities, and taking risks.
for too long now, i’ve undulated between over-rooting and over-reaching, never seeing the interplay between the two. my heart needing both deep rest, and effortful activity.
i realized that in order to progress further in my soul’s evolution, i must learn to root and ground.
for me, grounding looks like the mundane in life: cooking nourishing meals, getting to bed earlier, and sitting with challenging emotions.
“Thus we must root in routine, which allows us to extend into our wildest dreams and ultimate purpose.” - Trail Journal
5. We are nature— and we grow at the same pace
“Maybe life’s magic is subtle, quiet, and permeating— unlike a massive psychedelic trip and instead a melting like ice into a puddle.”
in our modern, techno-enthralled, dopamine-obsessed culture, it can be hard to truly notice the subtle, underlying flow of the Tao, the driving life-force behind all growth. the energy is extremely slow to our more instant-gratified adjusted palettes…so slow that we might not even be able to tell it’s there.
think of quietly observing a single leaf from morning to dusk…did you see it grow?
it’s apparent that we too, especially in our healing journey, grow at the pace of nature.
it’s hard to see change day to day, to see our habits paying off in any real way.
we might even give up a habit after only a few days, because we can’t see results.
if anything is clear to me, especially as a life-long weight-lifter, is that habits we make and execute now, won’t be truly noticeable for at least 6-months.
that kind of timeline is averting, and downright discouraging.
but that is one of laws of nature. and who are we to object.
yet, on the other end of this law of nature, is a beautiful savior.
progress may be slow, but it is sure. there is in fact guaranteed progress.
it’s just subtle.
as nature, our job is to work with the Tao, by embracing the fact we change at the pace of nature, adjust our lives accordingly, and accept that we are subject to the same constraints as nature. but it doesn’t mean we don’t grow.
conclusion
summarizing a life-changing adventure into a simple blog post doesn’t quite capture the essence of such a transformational trip— but i hope this revealed a glimmer of it.
overall, what i learned is that the truth is not secret or hidden, merely subtle and unassuming.
<3
