After spending the week repelling, climbing and paddling our way through the mountains, forests and waters of the North Island, I am confident that I am speaking on behalf of the group when I say that we have all felt the minor physical repercussions of our unsure footing, busy arms, and in my case, apparent aversion to staying on the bike path. In our valiant (and successful) attempts to keep on keeping on, we managed to secure our fair share of obscure bruises and aches. Emerging no worse for the wear, we were fortunate to all feel sufficiently healthy and capable for our full week in Taranaki. Blessed with remarkable weather each day, our intimate interaction with the surrounding region – from the overwhelming and seemingly endless forest to the beautiful, unblemished coast line – has allowed us the opportunity to explore this country on a much more personal level. As I have watched my bruises fade, I have spent the majority of the week contemplating three personal recurring themes: how grateful I am for helmets, the remarkable ability of the passage of time to heal, and the humility that the concepts of both hunger and abundance create, both in theory and in execution.
Few self-respecting seven-year-olds admit to the logic behind wearing helmets. They’re not stylish, flatter next to no one, and are in many Razr scooter enthusiast’s opinion, a hindrance to the whole process. After a few good wipe outs and nine stitches later, however, sentiments tend to change, and a little bit of extra padding loses a bit of the stigma. But the more things change, the more they stay the same, and in a few weeks time, many of us are guilty of falling back into the same helmetless habits that got us into trouble in the first place. Luckily for me, helmets were not an option, but rather a requirement, when we went canyoning as a group one day last week. So, when I did slip and fall, the only proof of impact was an egg on my head and a bruise to the ego. Our canyoning adventure was my first fall of the week, but it was by no means my last. Finally, after landing head first in a bush a few days later, I asked myself a relatively simple question. What’s so hard about standing on my own two feet? What am I supposed to learn from all of this? After a few moments of frustrated self-pity, I came to a realization that I find myself continuing to learn and relearn time and time again. Like clockwork, a simple truth came to light. Although there are few guarantees in life, one thing I know for sure is that no matter how many helmets I wear, there comes a time when precaution can’t protect you completely. We fall. If you are lucky, you have had practice, so that once you take a serious slip, you know to tuck your chin and roll. Embracing the fall allows us to become comfortable with it, and the less we resist it, the less damage it often ends up causing. Bashing into rocks and running myself off boardwalks this week reminded me that sometimes the questions are complicated, but the answers are simple. It allowed me to revisit this lesson once again, and come out of this week with an even deeper understanding of myself and what it means to fall.
As I learn more about graceful landings, I realize that the passage of time, too, is a universal constant; both happen whether you’re wearing a helmet or not. Many of our activities this week have led me to contemplate the highly individual concept of time. It is a lesson that I must continue to relearn often – that the passage of time is consistent- even though it seldom feels that way. Yet somehow night turns to day, and before we know it, we have arrived at a place that for so long felt so far away. This week marks the half-way point of our trip, and once again, I have found myself a victim to the weird space/time continuum that is life in general. Six weeks feels both too long and too short an amount of time for our journey thus far, and depending on the moment, home can feel within grasp or worlds away. As we continue on this journey together, I have felt as though only one piece of the equation has somehow managed to evade the struggle with the passage of time: the factor of growth. Paying no mind to the time of day, duration of stay, or peace of mind, all kinds of growth have been present in both myself and those around me. Even though we are growing in different ways and at various speeds, it is obvious that we are all living in a state of shifting identity. We are positive we are no longer the people we once were, but unsure of what we will become. Sharing that likeness with my company in this state feels good. For me personally, every time I leave home thinking about how I’m going to reinvent myself, I end up returning to the things about myself that I find most familiar. I hang on for dear life to the inside, no matter how my outside context changes. But once again, time goes on and bruises fade, and I become a more genuine version of myself. Although this process is highly individual, I am observing much of the same feeling in my peers on this trip. Slowly but surely, superficial fronts crumble, and we become real with both ourselves and the people around us. We begin to let others see what we are and forget about maintaining the facades that we often find comfort hiding in. We begin to embrace our own internal contradictions that make up entire oxymoronic complex human beings, and in doing so, begin to claim our independence. We continue to trust the process. As weeks pass, it becomes more apparent to me that my own independence can only come from dependence; from the knowledge and recognition of the unshakable things in my life that have made me ready to face all the big bads out there in the world. I think I will always struggle with the concept and passage of time, but experiencing and observing this magnitude of growth over such a short period of time has reminded me that there is often beauty in the things that frustrate and confuse us; we just have to be willing to find it.
We all came on this trip to grow and learn, deepen and become, and it is without a doubt that our decision to take this particular step stems from a hunger; an unquenchable thirst for exploration and adventure. For that reason alone, I believe a little hunger can be a good thing. I found myself this week thinking often about the generosity that has been demonstrated to us, and even though this realization is not a new one, I continue to find myself remarkably humbled by the abundance we have been given. As we share our gratitude with each other before every meal, I am amazed by how unifying humility can be. As we continue to journey as a group, we allow ourselves to be connected by all of these things: our similar hunger, the recognition of abundance, and the unifying force of humility, and in doing so, experience all of these emotions on a level so deep and so real that it can feel frighteningly powerful. This week has gifted me the opportunity to recognize and name all of these realities happening around me, and whether I am contemplating the basic concept of helmets or the complex concept of what it means to truly become, I know how blessed I am to have the humorous, enlightening, injury-laden trip I am having. I am surrounded my people and places that continue to teach me more about myself and the world around me, and for that I will be forever grateful.
Emma Growney 3/28/13