It was the official last week of summer and I was not ready to let go. Winters feel longer, and this summer seemed so very short. So the plan to was to fill a three day weekend with summer warrior activities, starting with a one-hour body pump class, from which I am still sore. Next on the list, after Saturday prayers, was an hour in the kayak...did I mention that body pump works my entire upper body and that it was threatening to rain? At least there was no lightening since I was sitting in the middle of a lake holding a medal paddle.
I ended the day with a barbeque at our house for friends.
Sunday started with a short run with the dog through wet grass. I had planned on a 12 mile hike high in the foothills, but the clouds were already closing in so I did not want to head up as high in the hills. I put on my new toe socks, grabbed my pack and, I thought, everything I needed and drove up to White Ranch Park. I parked and reached over for my hiking shoes and...wait for it...found my flip-flops. Not my tevas, but my flip-flops. Not a problem I thought. I always have extra running shoes in the car. Oh, I forgot, they were wet from the morning run sitting at home on the dryer.
This meant the only shoes I had were a pair of flip-flops. I thought about just driving home and going for a long walk on the bike path near the house. So not appealing. I asked myself: what would a weekend warrior do? I decided to just walk slowly and cover at least 1/2 mile. Luckily I had on my toe socks, so I put on my flip-flops and my pack and slowly and carefully started down the trail.
This is a mountain trail...not particularly steep...but with plenty of rocks and places to slip. So I walked a bit slower than my normal pace and set my feet down with clear intentionality. And then some magic happened.
The first people I met were hiking in walking sandals and stopped to talk when their dog fell in love with me. We laughed about forgetting shoes, and they shared that they had done that several times. Ditto the trail runners and the women on mountain bikes. They all noticed my feet and shared stories of forgotten shoes and other essential implements.
I kept walking and decided to redefine my "forgetting" as a gift from Hashem. After a mile, I realized how comfortable I was hiking without ankle or arch support.
My mind was actually quiet since I was focused on walking. This reminded me of a Jewish chant "Silence is Praise for you" which I started humming and filled my mind with.
This led to a reflection that I was safe in the wilderness with very little around me, that the Hashem was my protection, not my hiking gear. And I kept walking.
Somewhere along the way I wondered why I never felt this connected on a regular basis, and I immediately had a flash of my multi-tasking life. My mind is so full of information and must-do lists, there is no space for a conversation with G-d. In fact, if Hashem happened to call me with vital information, I would probably have to put the call on hold. It was my slow walking was opening a space in my mind for the presence of G-d, much like the way that G-d opened a space, through tzimtzum for creation.
After about 3 miles the trail was going to shift through flooded areas, so I turned back and retraced my steps. Slowly.
Now I met people fully equipped for a hike across high Sierra passed with poles and heavy duty shoes and safari hats. They walked on by me without looking at my feet. I wondered about the way we humans think we need so much more to have an experience. High end everything to protect us from the wildness of the outdoors. Maybe all we do need is a bit of faith. Maybe more is less and less is more.
And then near the end of the hike I passed a group of heavily equipped hikers who did notice my flimsily clad feet. One young man said to me:
"You must be a very experienced hiker. What do you know that I don't know?"
I laughed and told him that this was an accident, and that I would not repeat the experiment, but it was true that sometimes less is more. And really he could give up the silly polls.
I made it back to the car and home before I realized that I had never stubbed my toe, had a rock in the "shoe", tripped, or felt any pain from lack of support. In fact. I felt great.
The warrior weekend the next day with another kayak trip and a 20 mile bike ride on my new bike. And I had to wonder...would the older slower heavier bike brought just as much joy?
For the past several months the answer has been inserting itself in such odd places. While lifting weights or running a 1/2 marathon I can see a world full of options before me. I can choose to leave or to stay, i can run away or embrace. i can move toward something as soon as I move away from illusions and scars that never did really define me. 
My family often told me i would "out-grow" my craving for life and my longing for the touch of G-d on my heart. They said the fire that drove me would be tamed and my wildness would be trimmed. And i wold be safe so they would not be frightened. 
But yesterday, for no reason, without fan-fare or fuss, there it was, that deep hollow in my heart that called and chanted and sang and drummed and danced and whispered. That still small voice invited me back on the journey. Without an fuss. Without any rules. Just a door that opened before me, a wind that blew through me, a scent that captivated me, and a sense that this journey has been waiting for me all along. And i am beyond delighted. 
