Revealed: one type of medicine that no one has told us about
This blog was created by me, for us.
Some people take medicine every day to prevent or treat their illness. They pay attention to their physical state and notice as well as know when they need another dose. They can feel their body communicating to them without words; the body tells them that it is time for another dose. These individuals have medicine on their minds almost constantly, because some have their lives depending on it.
Over the past two months, I have realized that each of us needs a custom, metaphorical medicine. Now, I’m not talking about a pharmaceutical pill, dropper, or injection. The medicine I’m speaking of is an experience that we need regularly to keep us grounded, connected to ourselves, and essentially…sane. This treatment directly impacts our state and quality of life. This medicine is specific to each individual and can only be discovered through trial and error.
The reason why I say I’ve realized this in the past two months is because I wasn’t taking my correct dosage, and it began to show
…big time.
After the COVID-19 pandemic wrapped itself around the world and wove into our lives, I decided that I wanted to stay with a friend and work on the van. At the beginning of quarantine, we didn’t know much about the virus. Did we need to quarantine for 30 days or 14? Was the virus alive on my shoes and clothes for 18 days, or not at all? I felt nervous and was experiencing a lot of uncertainty- as many people were. When the pandemic began to sweep the United States, I was a backcountry snowmobile guide, working full time in the travel industry, showing people the mountains and trails while Colorado was a beautiful winter wonderland. I had clients from hot spots like New York, Texas, and Florida, right up until the day we shut down.
I made the decision to solo quarantine in the mountains for 40 days to cover all of my bases of safety before I moved into my friend’s house. I felt that there was no better time for a project than when we were told to stay safe at home. With both of us out of a job, it fit perfectly.
While living in suburbia, “finishing” my van, (I say “finishing” because I’m not sure if the building will ever end) I pulled myself away from nature, open space, and the mountains. I unintentionally went on a nature fast as I threw myself into multiple projects. My home captured all of my attention and energy for the next 50 days. I created a calendar, spreadsheet, and task list for us to make small progress every day. I found myself chipping away at my dream home, yet again. With passion and urgency, my friend and I put our heads down and went to work.
I didn’t take my medicine each day that passed.
I slowly began to sink lower and lower, disconnecting from myself daily. Mind you, this was all unintentional. If I had known what my medicine was, I would have taken it. If I had known my proper dosage and treatment or could sense when my body was communicating through the wordless language, I would have done what it asked.
But I didn’t.
I didn’t know what my medicine was.
I didn’t realize the custom dose and treatment that I needed laid within open skies, expansive forests, and Mother Nature’s finest creations.
I didn’t hear my body speak because I didn’t know what to listen for.
I honestly didn’t even notice myself drifting away because of the laser focus I had.
When you’re in the mountains, the path winds through the trees and along the slope side. The walkway is littered with jetting rocks and half exposed tree roots. It moves from packed dirt, to mud, to a scramble through small boulders. When on this type of path in the mountains, you’ve got to take it slow and pay attention. As the hills push your capacity, inside and out, rests are important to maintain your stamina. Those rest periods give you the opportunity to pause and take a look around. Nature pushes you, yet supports you by checking in.
It’s unalike down in the foothills. When you come down to the flat land, the path is different. It is wide and paved. No need to look out for nature’s obstacles, because man flattened it out for us. So, you can sprint…open it up and go fast. Zooming across the Earth you can hear the wind whistling past your ears and making your eyes fill with tears. The colors that create the world around you begin to blur together into one scene.
When I took space from the mountains and arrived in the flat land, I took off at full speed.
The rate in which I moved every day caused my experience to blur, not being able to tell the difference between the days. Each day I wore work clothes, a hat, and got really dirty. Although there were a few moments that left an imprint on my heart, my mind can hardly recall any of it. My heart can see my friend and I having great laughs, being silly, and sharing hugs for the first time in over a month. All my mind can see is clouds of sawdust, the smeared colors of power tools, and the silhouette of the van against the baking golden Colorado sun.
Although it takes 24 hours for a day to pass, sometimes it felt like I would live 3 days in one. I was in hyper-drive, soaring full throttle down the flat, straight, smooth path.
The compounded effect of three days in one began to unravel me.
My soul began to feel ill. My mind felt foggy. My heart was low and dark. I felt disconnected from the light that burns deep inside of me. I felt uninspired.
Although I was sling-shotting my body through the motions each day to build my van, there was no one home upstairs.
I plain ol’, didn’t feel like myself.
Fast forward 53 days.
I’ve moved back into my van and I’m on the road. Cruising into Wyoming with the windows down and the wind ruffling my long brown hair. My dog, Rudy, has his head out the window trying to catch every floating high desert scent in his nose. I can feel a soft smile spread on my face. The roads wind carefully through climbing canyons, wildlife roams freely in the open space, and the trees surround the mountain peaks like worshippers expressing gratitude for the almighty.
I’m in awe.
I’m feeling myself come back into my body, back into my present moment. This experience is slowing me down enough to lift me. I can feel myself being pulled out of the slumber inside of my darkness. It has been a long time since I’ve taken my medicine. I begin to rise from the depths and reconnect with myself after weeks of unintentional self-deprivation.
Once I discovered that nature is my medicine, I took time to reflect.
I think I knew this fact for quite some time, but I didn’t know it.
I can imagine myself wandering through thick forests with trees so tall that I couldn’t see their branches kiss the sky. Slowly soaking in the melting yellow rays of sunshine through my skin. Laying my eyes on distant mountain peaks that stack and layer on top of each other creating a stunning mosaic of greens, grays, and browns. Seeing and experiencing these things create equilibrium in my body. They bring me back to myself; they bring me home.
Nature helps me return to my true nature and reminds me off my humanness.
Cloud shows, majestic mountains, and my lungs filled with fresh air create a sense of deep enchantment in my body, mind, and heart. If I could put floating snowflakes, water that captures and reflects the still scene above, and wildlife into a pill, that, would be my medicine.
But I can’t.
I cannot collect these self-identified ingredients and boil them down in my cauldron to create a tincture that I drop under my tongue each day.
And I certainly cannot deny the fact that this experience, that this medicine, is essential to my being and highest quality of life. I cannot deny the fact that I will unravel if I don’t seek the proper treatment.
Now that I know, it is vital that I listen to my body and give it what it needs.
I have to get out there.
In order for me to regularly receive treatment, I’ve got to gran myself permission to create space in my life to simply be in nature.
Now that I have discovered that nature is my medicine, I find myself in the phase in which I need to discover my proper dosage.
Just like pills, when you begin, you are not sure how your being is going to respond to it. It may be too much and create overwhelm and buzzing inside of your belly. Or it might not be a high enough dosage in which you experience nothing. It’s time for me to try it on in different ways to discover what is good for me. Based on that, I can increase or decrease my dose.
Perhaps you and I take the same medicine but you take it 2x a month and I take it 4x a week. Whereas others may have a completely different medicine to meet their needs. In other words, we to do what works best for us.
The reason why I share this is because no one has ever told me that there is a medicine out there that can be customized to fill me up, keep me connected, and help me get inspired for this life. No one told me that the medicine doesn’t have to be a pill or tincture. That in fact, the medicine that connects me to myself can be an activity and/or experience.
Now that this discovery has been made, it would be a disservice to withhold and not share with you.
With that,
I invite you to explore what your medicine may be. It may be motorsports or fishing. It may be sitting in your hammock in a cool place or soaking in a bathtub. It may be drawing or knitting.
Get curious about the things you enjoy, because some have the power to bring you home, to yourself.
It may take time, so as you explore, pack a light heart, take it easy and be playful.