Letting Go, Living with Joy, and Other Lessons from the Pacific Northwest

Kit never thought I'd do it. She was proud and vowed to brag about it to her friends. Shay never thought I'd do it and shook his head in wonder.  "Did you really?" he asked.  "See for yourself," I said and showed him.  I never thought Hank would, but he did and I was a witness. Neither of us would ever do it again, but I, for one, am not sorry. It was a moment of sheer abandon, of breaking away from old habits, fears, and definitions of who we were and what we'd do, and those moments are exhilarating.

At approximately 4:00 p.m., PST on August 17th, amidst a crowd of the coolest-looking mountain bikers you could imagine, with the P.A. system blaring the start of the Kokanee Crank Works award ceremony, Hank and I each drank a bottle of Monster energy drink. It's not for the faint-of-heart. It's not for my generation. And, frankly, it tastes like crap. But, in some weird, overly caffeinated, overly sugary, and much-to-my-chagrin not-even-vegetarian way, it was fun. Another barrier overcome.

I admit it, had I not just free-styled on the zip-line (which means I zipped upside-down, Dude - oh, sorry, my inner mountain biker is coming out), had I not Frankenstein-walked down a glacier, had I not been watching the bikers who all look like Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles come to life in their body armor and too hip for mere mortals clothing all weekend, I'd have passed up the Monster in favor of a more grown up drink (say, bottled water).

The backstory: I'd been reading Dr. Wayne Dyer's, "Manifest Your Destiny: Nine Spiritual Practices for Getting Everything You Want" all week. I do have a problem with manifesting: do I really even want to? I'm not sure. And maybe that's because for the past few months I've been working on.....letting go. Accepting. Trusting (or trying to) that everything happens as it should, or, at least, realizing that most things are really out of my control anyway so it's high time I give up any illusions to the contrary.  Whether I'd use it to manifest or not, I was finding the book meaningful and inspiring.

Further backstory: I was conflicted about this vacation. The kids are getting older so I thought we shouldn't waste the chance to do something cool with them. I like (or used to like, or think I should like) traveling. However, I don't like planning our trips. I picked Vancouver partly because it looked like there'd be lots of fun outdoor activities (which there were), it would keep the city-slickers in our group happy (it did), and I figured I'd make a hotel and plane reservations and the planning would be done (what was I thinking?). There was way more planning and pre-trip decision-making than I'd expected. I got more than a little cranky and stressed over this. After too many bad moods, I planned whatever I did and left the rest to chance. 

You could say at some point of the planning, I let go. And, everything, I mean everything, worked out perfectly. We took a stretch limousine to our hotel (and back to the airport) which was both unplanned and less expensive than taking cabs or the bus, we stayed in a two-floor penthouse suite (which we hadn't booked and didn't pay extra for), Harry and I zip-lined (we hadn't planned to do so - he because of his fear of heights, me to keep him company when the others did), we white-water rafted on a 95 degree day (unplanned), when the rains finally came, we didn't sea kayak - because, although I'd wanted to, I hadn't made the reservation and therefore, we weren't committed to going! The list goes on, but I won't bore you will all the details. Basically, for eight blissful days, we lived charmed lives (okay, maybe not Harry, who might have spent the week wondering why he was on a family vacation instead of working toward his driver's license). I can't remember ever feeling so peaceful or that I was in a safe bubble where good stuff just kept coming our way. 

Which doesn't mean we didn't have cranky too-much-togetherness moments. We did. Life is life, after all. As Zen teaches, "Before enlightenment: chop wood, carry water.  After enlightenment: chop wood, carry water." But still, I don't need anything to ever be better than they were that week. It was a gift. And I am grateful for it.

So, aside from the Monster and how things just kept working out for the best over and over again, one of the highlights for me was the glacier hike. I didn't realize we would actually be walking up a steep glacier (which just goes to show that even when we have hard evidence in front of us - in this case, a very good description of the trip on the website (which I'd read), we can believe what we want to and not what is real (I'd assume we'd walk across a flat glacier as Hank an I had done before. I thought the crampons, climbing tool, and ropes mentioned on the website would be for show and to give the tourists a thrill). But, we needed all this gear and at least a few of us actually used our climbing tool to keep from sliding down the glacier when first my crampon fell off and then, like ducks in a line, Hank, Harry, and Kit went down (when you're roped together, it really is all for one and one for all). I'd never said my mantra so much or with so much feeling as on the hour and a half climb. When we got to the top, I thanked our guide Alex for getting us to the top and stopping us from sliding all the way down (btw, Alex may be calmest person I've ever met, which is really interesting considering his passion for extreme back-country sports - this winter he plans on doing a 12-day back-country ski trip in 24 hours). And I thanked Leonard for teaching me my mantra.  

Of course, what goes up, must come down, and that meant us.  Without our crampons, which I tried not to think too much about, having just developed great love and affection for my crampons. "Going down is counterintuitive but trust me," said Alex. "Lean your body out, take a big Frankenstein step and....let go." That last part took me a while to get, but I did, and to my immense shock and relief, walking down a snowy mountain is actually fun. And, as Alex promised, and what I think makes this a great metaphor for life, you take a big step trusting that it'll be okay, you slide....but then you stop.

Zip-lining, by comparison, is easy. You wear a harness and the harness is attached to the cables. We did five lines, zigzagging fifteen stories over Fitzsimmons Creek (the name of which doesn't do it justice - it's more of a raging river - albeit a thin one - than a mere creek) in the rain forest between Whister and Blackcomb mountains. For the last zip, our guides informed us that we were to "freestyle", which means zip upside down. Scott, one of our guides, helped us get in position and just as he was about to push me off, he said, "It's all about letting go." It was pure fun. The only problem with zipping is it's over too fast.

I let go in the city, too. The one thing I really disliked about Vancouver is that there is a large homeless population (a recent count estimated 1,500 in the city proper, which is not a particularly large area). I feel compassion for these people, but was still disconcerted by seeing so many, especially downtown where we were staying. One day Shay lamented that he had no change to give these people as he walked by them. The next morning, I emptied the change I had into his hands and told him to give it as he pleased. We spent the day walking around the city. Shay gave my change to as many people as he could. I replenished his supply whenever I got more. Harry and Kit had their own change which they gave out. The kids felt badly that no matter how much change we had, there were still more people to help. They did feel good though, when I heard one man say to another after Harry gave them money, "Come on, we've got enough to get breakfast." Toward the end of our walk, we went into the 7-11 across from our hotel. We'd noticed that there was usually one homeless person or another hanging out there, opening the door for customers in hopes of a tip. As we came out of the store, a man opened the door. I had no change, and without thinking, I looked him in the eye and said, "Thank you but I'm afraid I don't have anything for you." With the nicest smile, he looked back at me and said, "You're welcome. And it's no problem." I suddenly realized, that through witnessing my children's generosity all day and how they opened their hearts to these people, I'd come to accept the homeless of Vancouver as Vancouverites like the rest of the city's people. I'd been afraid of these people and it was a relief to let go of that fear.

Lastly, one thing I love about Canadiens is their, "No worries" attitude. Here in Averill Park, when you thank someone, the response is often "Yup." (what does that even mean?)  In Canada, the response is usually, "No worries" or, "No problem." I love that. And I'll keep work on remembering that it's all about letting go.