37 miles. 14 hours. The length of my one-day trek across Joshua Tree National Park on January 24th.
Our small group set out at 4:00 a.m. in the frigid desert air, our headlamps illuminating the distinctive Joshua trees, poised like sculptures in a gallery. The sun emerged at mile 8, casting a pink-grapefruit glow on the horizon and quickening my pace. Cold morphed into warmth at mile 10, and warmth became heat at mile 15. With each step, I reflected on the impermanence of weather, along with the fleeting nature of health, sickness, fatigue, energy, joy, pain, and… life. Mile marker 20 remains a blur, 25 a fading memory. Call me if you want the details of my left pinkie toe’s deterioration from mile 30 to 37. That part, I remember vividly.
Our society has a love affair with goal-setting and achievement. I’ve tackled my fair share of challenges for both brain and body, and I freely admit that I enjoy the accolades for such ego-driven pursuits. But that was only a partial motivation for embarking on this 37-mile trek.
The three-day private retreat I attended wasn’t billed as a fitness challenge. Instead, it was framed as a Rite of Passage, which intrigued me because I am in a heightened state of personal evolution:
- My three kids are full-fledged adults, with their partners as their primary go-tos.
- After 40 years of city living, I’m moving upstate with my beloved partner to live among trees.
- I’ve exited from a personal branding company I co-founded.
- My coaching focus is shifting from building professional skills to nurturing the personal soul.
- I am integrating the magic of plant medicine into my work of supporting others.
On our first night together, we announced our intentions, stepped over a threshold, and gathered in a circle, each of us surrendering a personal object into a blazing firepit. The flames consumed the book I threw in. For the record, I am not a proponent of book-burning. But this book was my own—the one I wrote in 2010 to help women ascend the career ladder. My choice symbolized releasing the role of expert and stepping into a different kind of presence.
As I stood under the stars, I brought a favorite Ram Dass quote to mind: “The game is not about becoming somebody, it’s about becoming nobody… For when you become nobody, there is no tension, no pretense, no one trying to be anyone or anything.”
I don’t find that easy. After the trek, I impulsively posted four selfies on Instagram, only to delete them in self-disgust—then added two back moments later. Being human is hard work!
With those endless steps behind me and a healing pinkie toe, I do feel that I have completed a rite of passage, consciously working to leave elements of ego behind as I evolve. I feel reborn, committed to using my energy and abundant blessings to live purposefully—albeit impermanently—on our precious earth. The footprints I left behind in the dusty terrain have already disappeared. And that is exactly as it should be.
Photo credit: Jasmin
