I just returned from one of the most magical weeks of my life.
For their wedding, two incredible friends booked a heli-accessed backcountry ski hut trip in British Columbia. The skiing itself was phenomenal - it snowed every day, and essentially every turn we made was through untracked powder. We were perched overlooking a stunning valley, with all the creature comforts you need and none you don’t.
Last week reminded me of why I love wilderness guiding, why I’m such a believer in the power of outdoor education, and why I’m so excited to get out into the Sierra with VIVIFY this summer.
As is usually the case, what made this trip truly special were the people, and particularly the subculture that we co-created. There’s a particular flavor of expression that I find emerges in these environments, with the right people.
This often happens on expeditions.
The Alchemy of Expeditions
In 2018, I had my first taste of the expedition format - a month-long mountaineering and rock climbing course in the North Cascades with NOLS.
I was hooked. I’d spent quite a bit of time in the mountains from a young age, but I’d never been on an expedition in quite this way - out in the wild with a group of 14 for at least a week.1
We moved through vast natural landscapes, often in silence and reflection. We also spent hours upon hours of time with each other in camp, with uninterrupted space to joke, banter, and connect.
There’s an alchemy that happens here that’s difficult to recreate in our normal lives, but emerges reliably on expeditions.
There’s no dilution of the community. We’re either in silence and solitude, or some flavor of togetherness.
The lack of outside influence gives a particular culture time to emerge in conversation with the land. This has to be something close to what our hunter-gatherer ancestors experienced - moving as a pack across unbroken land.
It’s magic, comedy, and medicine.
It’s a dance between the sacred and the silly.
Last week, we read poetry, and cracked stupid jokes.
We made earnest offerings to the mountains, and then laughed at the consistency of the response (snow, within an hour, every single time).
We paused glittery dance parties to sit around the fire and offer our attention and worship to the Fire, the Flame, and the Light.2
We even had our sacrament - the holy yerba maté, offerer of unlimited energy and connector of community.3
And the wedding itself was breathtaking, sacred, and absolutely hilarious.
The Sacred, the Profane, and VIVIFY
I tend to take myself too seriously. Maybe you do too.
I remember finding a scrap of paper in a jacket years ago that just read “Sacred Silliness” - I’d scribbled it down in the middle of an LSD trip, then forgotten about it for months.
As I pulled it out and read it, I burst into laughter. This happens to me every couple of months - I take myself too seriously, then something happens to bring levity.
Often, this happens in the wilderness. This is a core component of VIVIFY - to embrace both the between the sacred and the silly.
To bring us into deep connection with ourselves, our community, and the more-than-human world while remaining open to the levity of life. To integrate that powerful alchemy of communal and individual aliveness back into our daily lives.
To help us remember who we are - social animals who evolved while moving together through wild landscapes.
This Is The Feeling
At the beginning of our time in the hut, Matthew Tufts (an incredible ski photojournalist, check his work out) shared a phrase he’d written in his journal during an epic sufferfest of a trip on the Southern Patagonian Icefield - “This Is The Feeling”.
It’s hard to describe, but you know it when you feel it.
“The Feeling” became a mantra for us last week.
I think one version of “The Feeling” is the convergence of the sacred and the profane. Recognizing the astonishing agony and ecstasy of this life, and being able to laugh at it.
Cumbia dance parties in a wild backcountry valley. Comedy and poetry. Laughter and tears. Aliveness.
This week, may you dance between the sacred and the silly.
May you find the feeling.
And when you do, may you recognize it, and be grateful.
My dear friend Nadine at Chulengo Expeditions wrote a sweet little piece on the magic of expeditions that inspired this section.
"In Praise of Fire", by John O'Donohue - To Bless The Space Between Us Let us praise the grace and risk of Fire. In the beginning, The Word was red, And the sound was thunder, And the wound in the unseen Spilled forth the red weather of being. In the name of the Fire, The Flame And the Light: Praise the pure presence of fire That burns from within Without thought of time. The hunger of Fire has no need For the reliquary of the future; It adores the eros of now, Where the memory of the earth In flames that lick and drink the air Is made to release Its long-enduring forms In a powder of ashes Left for the wind to decipher. As air intensifies the hunger of fire, May the thought of death Breathe new urgency Into our love of life. As fire cleanses dross, May the flame of passion Burn away what is false. As short as the time From spark to flame, So brief may the distance be Between heart and being. May we discover Beneath our fear Embers of anger To kindle justice. May courage Cause our lives to flame, In the name of the Fire, And the Flame And the Light.
In all seriousness, this last week gave me a deeper appreciation for the power of this particular plant and the ritual of sharing it. When shared in the traditional gourd/bombilla style, spending mornings (or afternoons) sharing maté not only aligns you at a similar level of caffeination, but it creates a context of communal sharing and care for each other.
I’ve been drinking maté for years (after one of my Chilean NOLS instructors introduced me), but I rarely get to spend time with people who willingly and joyfully want to share it. It sounds simple, but I think the consistent, casual shared ritual of 🧉 is magical.