Clara Puckett

Taking the Mind on a Hike 

I need to drink some water English paper is due this week this week why can’t I get this song out of my head I’m still thirsty why can’t I write this damn paper, I already have most of it down why am I anxious why am I anxious what is my mom up to why can’t I focus just focus focus focusing… I lost it darn did I feed my cat this morning. I'm anxious again why can’t I shut up and focus on homework…I have been staring at the wall for ten minutes to get it together…just focus!

This is my brain, and these are my thoughts that are either shouting at me, creating chaos in and out of my body, or I have quieted the roar to a simple purr that underlines my daily function. When I do not have something going on as background noise or music, I panic and that roaring chaos returns. I knew this was not a health coping skill, but it’s what worked, so why change now? I needed to challenge myself and prove to myself that I can listen and experience the world surrounding me. I decided to go on a hike. I would be alone and able to work through my thoughts without embarrassment or pressure. I was not aiming for the top of a mountain, or a rushing waterfall, but for a mental challenge to lead to clarity. To take the mind on a hike may sound strange but the effects can be incredible, insightful, and calming.

I started to walk down the steep rocky stairs to the visitor’s center, and I was flooded with memories. I could see my second-grade self running around looking for penny-sized frogs. I tasted the soggy Chick-fil-a sandwich that I would pick at due to a hatred of pickles. A cool breeze kissed my face as I crossed the first bridge at the beginning of the trail. I took a deep breath, smelling the cold earth while looking at the clear water below. The hike was a short walk around the lake, covered by the dry trees whistling above. Although it was winter and most of my surroundings were in a seemingly deadly sleep, I found it beautiful. My mind was still buzzing with thoughts, but I pushed them way and carried on. As I was walking, I wrote down notes about the hike because I was worried about forgetting the journey. I quickly realized how distracting the notes were. It was the opposite of what this hike was about, being present with my senses, not writing them down like data for a test. Just as I clicked my pen and put my notebook in my pocket, I saw a family of lizards blending into the cold bark of an old stump staring up at me. I wondered what their life is like, do they have families, drama, annoying thoughts that cause frustration? After wishing them well, I took a moment to sit on a bench looking out on the calm lake, noting how the curves of the trees frame a picture-perfect moment. I felt a wave of calmness come over me as I observed the water. I began to understand that sometimes I might benefit from letting the chaos out, it may start as a waterfall, but it might end in a beautiful lake. Down the trail, I came upon a large fallen tree; the roots were still intact, creating an overhang. A fallen dead tree creates a safe space for other life to flourish. Perhaps it could be a metaphor? I started to smell the fresh pine that I believed was the trees surrounding me; I later found a new pale-yellow bridge creating the fresh scent. Across the bridge, I heard a rustling right off the path. I took a moment to find what was in the leaves. It was another lizard going about its day. Maybe it knew the lizards at the old stump?  I was near the end of my hike when I heard a familiar sound. It was the same white noise I listened to at night in order to sleep, but it was real, not artificial. It was a rushing dam that protected both the lake and the road by its side. It reminded me when a rush of thoughts rage through my mind, and I instantly build the dam with music blocks. Although I took a minute to ponder, I quickly moved on as it was getting colder. The trail looped back right to the picnic area where I started. As I sat down, I began to reflect on how calming and self-reflective the experience was of taking my mind on a hike. 

It was a strange feeling, being alone with my thoughts. At first, I was worried about falling into old habits, then I became hyper focused on writing notes down for this essay. I thought I was doing well, but the notes became a distraction. Without realizing, I had used the notes as background noise for focused thoughts. I kept my mind locked onto a goal, ultimately ignoring the reason I was hiking. After putting down the notes, my mind began to roar, but I walked alongside the chaos, rather than pushing it away. I learned that although it may seem odd, taking the time to be with my thoughts, I was able to explore who I was and find calm within the roar.