Remembering.
For my friend, Mary.
18 SEPTEMBER—Twenty three years ago on a crisp and clear September day I climbed a steep trail to a high mountain pass in the Pasayten Wilderness of Washington State. It was the last day of a solo trek along a 72-mile stretch of the Pacific Crest Trail.
The ascent should have been an easy walk for me, even carrying a 43-pound pack. Instead, the climb is seared in my memory as a test of endurance—and an experience of grace. Out of breath, overwhelmed by fatigue, and with a curious pain in my chest, I was in heart failure and didn’t know it. I would find out three days later when I was in the ICU at St. Joe’s in Bellingham.
In life, we very often do what we have to simply because there are no other options. My only way out of the mountains was on foot and I had ten miles to cover. I was utterly alone and didn’t see another person that entire day.
I will always remember the peculiar way in which time slowed and concentrated as all of my attention and awareness was focused on each slow step—not the previous step, not the step to come, but the step I was taking. Each step was a complete journey—an entire lifetime.
I was lucky. It wasn’t my day to die. Or, it was a day on which I could have died. Instead, I entered a state of grace and the small steps I took made all the difference.
I share this memory to remind myself of what’s possible. And to remind you too.
We have within us—or maybe it is the case that we are—a reservoir of untapped strength, intelligence, and wisdom… of courage and kindness and love. We live in a state of grace all the time and don’t know it. We are grace itself.
Now more than ever we need to know what we’re capable of. And to know that we can turn the tide. We have—indeed we are in our very essence—what is most needed for this challenging moment we live in and share.
* * *
As I was writing this an email arrived in my inbox with the news that my friend, Mary had died—suddenly and unexpectedly, of a heart attack. I saw Mary only a month ago in Seattle. We met for a cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll, our first time together in over a decade. How glad I am to have seen her one last time. Have a good and peaceful journey my friend. And thank you for the reminder. Life is short and precious and we never know the moment of our death.
Thank you so much Cara. Your writings and art work are always so inspiring to me. I want you to know what a huge difference you have made in my life. No words can express how grateful I am to you or how much I admire you.