Grand Canyon

 

I visited the Grand Canyon (Arizona, USA) last week with two friends of mine. It's been 29 or 30 years since I last visited the Grand Canyon. At that time I was with my then-girlfriend and her two young boys. We had flown to Phoenix to visit her brother in Paradise Valley, and drove up to the Grand Canyon for an overnight visit. It was then, driving through Arizona, that I decided I would one day live in Arizona. And here I am!

This excursion was vastly different than my experience 3 decades ago. First, even though I was sober on the last trip, too, I'm in a completely different head space (good thing!) and heart space than I was back then. Second, there were no rambunctious boys in our party on this trip, so we went down into the canyon! 

I went with 2 friends, a couple, in recovery. My female friend led the excursion, as she is an avid hiker, and very adventuresome. A couple of nights before we went, she mentioned she was going, and I got excited and invited myself. The next day I realized I might have been a bit pushy, so I apologized and let her off the hook. She said I could come anyway!

It's about a 3 hour drive from Prescott, and we left in the evening. On the way there, we stopped to admire the sunset:

This picture was taken at a place called Hell's Canyon. There is also a swimming/fishing hole there, and some sort of large concrete structure that might be intended for flood abatement, but is currently only used for graffiti. 

We stopped at a free campsite near the Grand Canyon. My understanding is that there are a lot of free camping areas in Arizona. These do not have facilities. Our leader lent me her one-person hiking tent, which was really cool. It is basically a screen tent, so I could sleep under the stars without the bugs. It does come with a rain fly if needed. I brought along my sleeping bag and yoga mat, hoping it would be enough to keep me comfortable. It wasn't. In the morning I realized it would have been smart to gather up all the pine needles in the area to create a soft base onto which to pitch the tent. Live and learn. I also brought along a headlight (a very bright light one actually wears on their head) which I usually use for night biking. It came in handy and facilitated setting up the tents. 

With everybody snug in their respective tents, I tried to fall asleep. Realizing that that wasn't going to happen for awhile, I looked up at the brilliant night sky. I haven't seen the night sky without ambient light pollution for a long time, so it was quite a treat! I wasn't upset that I couldn't get to sleep; I just relaxed my mind and enjoyed the experience. Everything on this trip was so awesome and first-time, it wasn't hard for me to stay engaged in the moment, whether I needed some rest or not.

One of the things that did come to mind - our leader had planned for us to do a 9-mile hike with a 3000' elevation at the Canyon. I got to thinking about that, and on a good day on flat level pavement, walking 9 miles isn't very appealing to me. I resolved to set aside my fear of appearing old and out of shape and talk with her and her SO about it in the morning. The next morning I talked with my traveling companions, expressing my concerns, and even offered to do other stuff around the park while they went hiking. We all decided that the 9 miler was a bit ambitious, and opted instead for a 6 mile, 1500' elevation hike. I bring this up because it's something relatively new for me to express how I feel or what I think if it involves me possibly appearing less-than. As it turned out, we were all pretty much in the same physical shape, even though my companions are a few years younger than me. Well, ok, a lot of years younger. 

So we de-camped, packed up, and headed to the park. I was surprisingly awake and energetic for the amount of actual sleep I got. It is true that if one can't sleep, just being quiet and resting does have value. We stopped for breakfast, loaded up on water, and headed for the Canyon.

I was quite surprised at how the Grand Canyon has grown since I last visited it! Actually, what happened, is the last time I visited, I had a very small, narrow mind, and the visual memory that always surfaced whenever I thought about the Canyon was very small compared to how large it actually is. I was speaking with another friend about our trip, and he said every time he goes there, he is amazed at its enormity.

And then, as we began our trek, I realized I've retained very few memories about my original trip, and some of them aren't that good. This experience was turning out to be totally different - so much so, the two experiences aren't really comparable, other than 30 years ago I happened to occupy the same geographical space. 

Time for another pic:

So, we began the descent. I let my two companions lead the way so I could go slower, if needed, and so that I could take pictures. Now, of course, we don't go straight down (although that would be quicker); the trail has a lot of switchbacks. As I think I mentioned before, walking is not my favorite thing; bicycling is. I am a novice hiker - this is the 2nd hike I've taken in Arizona. I experienced some anxiety at the beginning of the hike, and it wasn't unwarranted. Hiking is risky business! I often experience a bit of anxiety before going on a long bicycle ride, because that has its risks, too. In bicycling, the anxiety leaves quickly because of the chemicals produced through the exercise. Here, it didn't dissipate as quickly, but it did leave. I was there for the overall experience, not just the hiking aspect, so it really didn't matter too much. 

This is a picture from near the bottom of our particular trail. We didn't go quite to the end, but rested here for awhile. Here, and during the whole hike, we talked about a lot of things. For some moments, we sat in the silence, surrounded by the canyon walls. In these moments, I felt that I could hear the silence - it seemed palpable. The experience was indescribably beautiful and awe-inspiring. There was nowhere else I needed or desired to be in those moments except where I was at with the people whom I was with. I haven't had such a deep experience of serenity in a long time, if ever.

Then, we began the climb back up. O.M.G! I began huffing and puffing almost immediately, and at first I felt embarrassed, because my breathing was very audible. Then I realized we were all having difficulty with the climb back up, and I felt better. I imagine I couldn't hear my friends' breathing because mine was so loud. Here I was met with the challenge I experience on almost all of my longer bike rides - and which I now actually enjoy - something inside of me wants to give up. But I can't! I mustn't! I can make it! And hitting the SOS button on our leader's GPS is too embarrassing! But, yeah, when you go down, you HAVE to go back up.

So, we stopped and rested several times on the way up. I'm sure it was easier because we were doing it together. And we were aided a little bit by light rain and a cool breeze. But we made it! And I made a commitment to more aerobic exercise to improve my cardiovascular stamina.

Takeaways 

Even with pictures accompanying my words, I have done a poor job of describing the immense positive impact this less-than 24 hour excursion had and still has on me, my recovery, and my spirituality. 

Perhaps the biggest miracle for me is how comfortable I felt being with my new friends. They really are good people with huge hearts, and, aside from a few brief moments already mentioned, I had no problem with being myself around them. I had no anxiety about adventuring with them, I felt no need to impress. I was just myself, and that was more than good enough. There was no competition, and we seemed to move in unity. It really was the most simple, pure experience of friendship I've ever felt in my life. 

Another big takeaway is the kind of spiritual experience produced being in the Grand Canyon. It's an experience that is still with me, in my heart. It brings tears to my eyes when I think about it. I haven't, in the past, experienced a lot of awe and wonder (except maybe to wonder how I managed to survive this long). I feel like I could explore the Grand Canyon for the rest of my life and never tire of it's beauty, wonder, and mystery. This coming from a guy who a year ago didn't really believe there was anything more to experience from life.

And last, at least for now, is you know I didn't plan this. I jumped on an opportunity, an impromptu road trip because it sounded like it could be fun and I haven't been out of Prescott for awhile. It's another miracle that for the first time in my life I am actually enjoying my life. I'm liking it. I'm loving it. Somewhere in the last year I finally surrendered - I stopped struggling, I stopped trying to find ways to make this life tolerable - and in letting go of what I thought my life should be like, I've received an even better life than I could have possibly imagined. And, as an old friend always says, it just keeps getting better and better.

Thank you for reading, and thank you my friends for who you are and your friendship, and thank you my Creator for never giving up on me, even when I did.

Namasté,

Ken

Greetings from Prescott Valley, Arizona

On or about December 18th, 2019, I moved from Wisconsin and landed in Flagstaff, Arizona. From there, I spent some time in Holbrook, AZ, and from there moved to Prescott (prounounced presskit) Valley, AZ. The reasons for the move are still unclear, but I've wanted to live in Arizona for some time now. So here I am.

I haven't written here lately. It's difficult for me to write when times are tough, and times have been tough. I decided to move rather abruptly, so I landed here without a plan. Additionally, I found it necessary to drink alcohol on the way down here. So, I'm basically a homeless drunk in Arizona. Actually, I was only drinking for about a week, so the consequences weren't too severe. However, the drinking caused me to be suicidal, so I landed in the psychiatric hospital and then off for a 30-day treatment. After treatment, I came to a sober living house in Prescott Valley.

It's also difficult for me to write when I feel unsure of what I'm writing about. If I only wrote about that which I knew for sure, I would write, "Moved to Arizona - sober again." I know there's much more to the story, I just don't know what it is yet.

And that's going to have to be ok. I am grateful for a friend who wrote to me, "It will all work out." My ego wants to defend, rationalize, justify, but I can't - I can only say, "It just is," and go from there. And going from here means learning to trust in and rely upon Source that it will lead me to the next right step; building my recovery support network here in Prescott Valley and Prescott, working vigilantly on learning how to manage depression and keep it from informing my choices, and being of service wherever and whenever I can. Same schtick, different state.

So I think that's about it for now. Pretty sketchy, but I needed to break the ice on the latest leg of my journey. I hope you'll continue to travel with me!

Namasté,

Ken

Let Me Share A Secret...

I recently talked with a parent of a person who lives with co-occurring disorders - she has a mental health condition along with substance use disorder. I shared my experience with this parent - my experience of relying too heavily on my parents and others to take care of me, to 'fix' me, when it would have been better all around for me to learn to take care of myself. I shared with this person how my learning to be responsible and take care of myself was/is the scariest thing, and yet the best thing, that I've ever done. I felt very comfortable talking with this parent - I was in my element, I was in the groove.

That's not the secret. That's what I do for a living - allow myself to be vulnerable so that I can share my experience and knowledge so that others might gain hope and maybe insight.

My secret is this:  I would rather not. People scare me. My brain, or my ego, tells me I would rather be alone all day than deal with people. My experience, on the other hand, tells me that the more open I am with others, the more I share the real me with others, the healthier I'll be. 

So I live with this paradox. I like to speak in public, and I write this blog, and on Facebook I'm very open; yet sitting down to talk with someone 1:1 is very scary for me, at least before the event. Once I'm in there, the experience is good. And when I'm done sharing or doing whatever I'm doing, I feel very good inside. 

I don't know if that fear of others, or that desire to isolate, will ever leave. It has its benefits - I must be spiritually prepared every day, through prayer and meditation, to meet whatever (or whoever) is mine to meet. This fear is the thorn in my side that St Paul describes - it keeps me coming back to Source, because I know what would happen if I did only what my head tells me to do - I would get sick and die. I've learned that if I'm not doing something today that makes me uncomfortable, I'm probably not doing anything today that's healthy for me.

I bring this up for two reasons: First, I need to remind myself that when I see someone else do something that looks very challenging to me, yet they're making it look effortless, there is probably a lot of preparation and stuff going on behind what they're doing of which I'm not aware. In other words, I ought not judge by appearances - things and people are rarely, if ever, what they seem at first glance. Second, I'd like to give some hope to someone who might read this and say to you, as Eleanor Roosevelt said, "Do one thing every day that scares you," and, "You must do the thing you think you cannot do."

I existed for a long time avoiding the tough stuff in life, and I was very empty inside. It's very painful to only go through the motions of living. Only when I began to do the things that I didn't want to do, the things that scared me, the things that exposed me, the things that I had no idea how to do, did I begin to experience the richness of life. One doesn't necessarily need to climb Mount Everest to experience a thrill; simply doing what's written on my heart while ignoring the screaming voice in my head can be quite thrilling. I have a lot of people in my life for whom I'm very grateful who would not be in my life if I were living by my old m.o. Simply put, it's really easy to get to know people who are really easy to get to know, but it's not very fulfilling. Inside of me, and I'm pretty sure inside of you, are those things that deep down my heart yearns to do, but my head has excuses not to do. For me, those are the things I do if I want to have the kind of life that I can feel good about. And I suppose I am, bit by bit, because, bit by bit, I'm feeling better about being me. It's been a long time coming.

Namasté,

Ken

Discomfort

I did not wake up this morning thinking, "Hey! I'm going to meet someone new today!" In fact, I never wake up thinking that. And it's probably a good thing that I had forgotten that I was presenting this morning with someone whom I'd never met. I remembered when I got to work and looked at the calendar. I didn't even dress right today.

I am one of several Stories of Hope presenters. We talk about our experience with mental illness and recovery with psychiatric patients, Crisis Intervention Training classes, and sometimes the general public. I like telling my story. First of all, it's my story - I can't screw it up. Second, I get such immense gratitude for what I have today when I go into places and share where I've been, where I'm at, and how I got here. But my partner today was someone that I'd yet to meet, and that is scary for me. It's one of those remnants I was talking about a couple of days ago - I know it's not real, that it has no basis in reality, but it's still there and it's still uncomfortable.

So I meet this guy and we begin presenting, and I am amazed - he's a great presenter, a very likable guy, and we have a lot in common. I'm glad I met him, and I think I have a new friend.

I believe that doing things that make me feel uncomfortable is essential to my recovery. If I did only the things that I felt like doing, or were easy for me, I'd eventually end up back in bed all day, and eventually end up drinking and probably dead, or very sick. However, I usually don't look for uncomfortable stuff to do. I don't sit down on a Sunday evening and write out all of the uncomfortable things I plan on encountering in the coming week. The uncomfortable things come to me (most of the time). It's the uncomfortable things that make me grow, make me stronger, give me confidence, help my self-esteem, and give me something about which to write.

And the uncomfortable things give me life. What if God or Life or the Universe wants us to have an adventurous life? For some people I know, leaving their house to go shopping is just such an adventure. So I encounter these uncomfortable situations, and I get benefits that I did not expect. Did I expect to meet someone and make a new friend today? No, it was not on my list. But it happened. 100% of my life today has come from things I didn't expect, which came from things that gave me discomfort.

I used to avoid and escape. That was my MO. I still do, to some extent, but not nearly as much as I used to. Today, on the whole, I know I'm better off when I do something I don't necessarily feel like doing, and I usually do it anyway. (The only problem with that, and it's only a problem when I think about it too much, is by consistently doing the things I don't necessarily want to do, the challenges get greater; however, so do the rewards!).

Here are some of the things a person in recovery can expect to be asked to do which won't be fun at first (or maybe ever):

• Go to support groups
• Share at support groups
• Take direction from a mentor
• Talk about past trauma
• Talk about fear
• Talk about embarrassing events 
• Be of service
• Admit one's faults
• Find a Higher Power
• Learn to pray
• Learn to apologize
• Learn to face the past
• Learn to admit mistakes
• Learn to guide others along the path to recovery
• Learn to meditate

And that's the short list. But we don't come into recovery because life is going great, and we're looking for something to do. Most of us get here because it just doesn't work anymore. So we must try to do things we've never done before, and they're scary. But it's ok, because we're not alone - we have support. And then it's ok, because we begin to understand that facing the scary stuff is what keeps us in recovery.

And, if we keep going, we begin to understand a lot more of what these challenges are really about - we begin to grow out of our old selves into a new creation that's bigger and better than we could have ever imagined. And we begin to understand that that's who we really were all along, and facing the uncomfortable stuff in our life is just the process of letting go of what really isn't us and embracing who we really are and the life that we can lead.

Namaste,

Ken