Dear Dad
Well, I went to Africa. I mean how else do you start a letter that involves something as big as a trip to Africa? I went to Africa, I'm back and I'm just beginning to process all the images, smells, sounds that literally hit me during my trip.
I went, as you know for two reasons. The first involved my love of hiking and mountains. I went to hike for seven days straight, to climb on rocks, to spend time in high places, breathing in the quiet, the purity of that air, closer to God, to heaven, to the roof of the sky. And I did. I camped above the clouds. I watched the cloud banks climb steep mountain sides, unfurling to rest below me. I lived for a short time above the clouds. No new perspectives occurred. No deep insights.
And I climbed on rocks again, and again and again and I realized happiness renews itself, spreads itself out on others, makes it easy to be positive and funny and my best self more of the time..I was happy most of the time for one solid amazing week. I love hiking. I love mountains. I love climbing. Why? Because mountains are beautiful, because...I don't know why. Maybe that's the insight. The irrational, crazy loves we have are important. Not to be dismissed or minimized or allowed only when convenient.
And I went to summit Kilimanjaro, which I did. But I didn't feel triumphant at the top. I felt like yes, this is where I'm supposed to be today, on this mountain, with these people who got engaged at the top, who smiled and hugged each other, who stood, taking in this mountain lunar landscape where everything is so much bigger, so much more powerful in a view. The mountain itself from the top, overwhelms.
I felt yes, I feel good here not altitude deprived but happy. I felt really good. And that solidified my love of hiking, mountains in another crazy irrational insight. Because feeling good, feeling happy made me feel like I was doing the right thing for me. Like I was on the right path.
And then we climbed down, extreme tiredness but I did way more hiking, pushing through my own can I really hike more resistance, to realizing I limit myself. I did it and I probably could have done more. I don't know how much more before I would have fallen over! but the point is I pushed myself hard, I didn't listen to my brains' I can't and it was okay.
And what helped were the guides who I knew without saying, do this a lot of the year. Over and over again. I respect not just the first time you break a barrier but the second time and those times after, when you know at the end you'll be exhausted. But you chose to do it again. Thats a kind of love too, I guess. when you know it will hurt but it makes you happy so you do it anyway.
Then rest day and safari. The safari I was sort of dragged into only by my I probably won't do this again thinking. It was on the famous bucket list too; climb mount kilimanjaro, visit the Serengeti. But it was hard to give myself the time and spend the money. All I can say at this point is so glad I did.
The vastness of the Serengeti is beyond description. You drive and drive and drive across a high grassy plain feeling like in all this space, anything could hide forever. Its hopeless to try and see animals. And then, you do see animals because the guide knows how to see them. And you realize you could look forever but you need to slow down again, and see. And so I slowed down almost meditatively, listening to the guide explain how to see and saw lions, leopards, elephants. Wildebeest, rhinoceros, hippos, ostrich and hyenas. and beautiful birds whose plumage astonished because it was so different from the familiar birds at home. There is something about seeing the familiar as different that is about being alive, being mindful, being present...
I wanted to see lions. But the lions resisted my expectations. I saw them after eating, with full bellies, indifferent to humans lying next to a pool. I saw them in a tree, trying to sleep. I saw them hungry, moving with that deliberate stride, that focussed look that is so about danger and hunting and power; that was what I wanted to see. But it was also about hunger, being too hot and tired when a group stopped and rested literally at the feet of the truck. It was about meeting the eyes of a lion and feeling her checking me out in a what kind of meat are you way. and then a more harmless look way. A knowing you won't bother me way but, but I have my eyes on you anyway because I have cubs. The universal look a mother gives a newcomer who she doesn't know. I know I've said it before but being a mother is so biological in some ways..so instinctual can be our responses. I could be reading way too much into the look of course but thats what I saw.
I saw elephants in a herd and mostly male elephants with long tusks. One came quite close to the car. He stood there so huge, so draped in that loose, riven elephant skin, with those small eyes that seemed so intelligent. How can such a small eye on such a huge creature be what I remember? He looked at us and I thought about how does such a huge creature see us? Our small bodies in a large truck, clicking boxes taking pictures, exclaiming. Harmless? Clueless? Worthy perhaps of some attention but easily dismissed an hour later. And yet I carried his image home and continue to think on it.
So many animals. And I didn't like riding in a truck for four days but I loved seeing the animals. Another top one is the great migration. Somehow, we happened upon a migration of thousands of Wildebeest and Zebras migrating together. We sat in the truck for probably an hour, watching them walk by, hearing the sounds of a great herd, the obedience to movement at the same pace, staying together but aware of each other. Mothers, fathers, babies crossing in front and behind us. I could not see the end of it. You would think it would be so loud, so raucous. But it was not. It was surprisingly more like a loud hum of sound composed of mooing, grunting and walking animals.
The Wildebeest, the Zebras, the elephants, the rhinos and the lions, even the hyenas. They share the same space. They even see each other at times sharing the same space. They coexist, knowing their predator, prey relationship. I was amazed. I assumed, humanly, that they would hide from each other, be fearful of each other. But it seemed, felt more like a wary coexistence. An acknowledgement or an agreement maybe that we live here together. Let's live in, except when I'm hungry! peace for periods of time. I'm still thinking on that piece and wondering how well we do it here, what we could learn. Is it based on there is enough space for all? A natural acceptance of this is how it is? Its for another essay.
So that's it for now. I have barely scratched the surface of impressions, especially about the most powerful part, the hiking, but I'm tired. I'll write more later. I've been writing for almost an hour. My brain decided it was time to get up an hour ago. I'm still on Africa time. I am actually fine with that. I'm not quite here yet. and I know that happiness, such a big dose, means I'm going to make some changes to my life. Changes to encompass more happiness. And that is another insight ( so there are actually many of them!) to write about another time.
Love
Margot
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