Carrying It Anyway: Wind, Bees, and the Beauty of Showing Up

A Story of Strength, Spirit, and Serendipity

Inspired by a moody morning hike in Tilden Park

The morning began not on the trail, but in that quiet in-between space — where motivation hadn’t quite caught up to intention. I sat with my morning Tarot cards with metaphors that reflected back my hesitancy. The message was clear: today wasn’t about pushing or proving. It was about listening. There was a deeper re-alignment happening, something asking to be heard beneath the surface resistance.  So, I laced my boots.

Not because I was convinced, but because something whispered, “Go anyway.”

I shifted my route before I even left the car, deciding to begin with the hardest climb instead of saving it for the end. That choice alone felt like an act of inner leadership — honoring my strength early rather than testing it when I was already tired. And it paid off. I ascended with energy, passing other hikers and loved the strong climb.

Each step was layered: it wasn’t just a hike, it was devotion. A bond. A preparation of body and spirit.

The weather cooperated beautifully — cool, misty, with a breeze sharp enough to clear mental fog. As I climbed ridge after ridge, the wind kissed my skin and kept the sweat from sticking. I felt strong, present, and connected to something ancient. The trees knew. The clouds knew. And somewhere deep inside, I knew: this was the exact right place to be.

At one point I got turned around — not lost, exactly, but redirected by the land. And just then, a woman appeared, walking my way. We matched pace and fell into easy rhythm.

Conversation flowed. She mentioned a bee swarm ahead on the trail. We kept walking anyway.

That moment felt mythic — two travelers, meeting at a threshold of fear, choosing to go forward not in bravado, but in reverence. I shared the memory of a healer I once watched dance with a single bee, honoring its presence instead of recoiling in fear.

As we neared the hum of thousands, we paused.

We softened.

We let the wildness greet us.

And then — we walked through the swarm.

Bees buzzed around us, brushing shoulders and backs. But no stings. Only the electrifying presence of being in something ancient, powerful, and alive. We had made it safely past the swarm  — together, calm, and transformed.

We hugged at the fork where our trails parted. Swapped numbers. Promised to remember.

I walked the final stretch alone, letting the meaning settle into my bones. This day wasn’t just about physical strength. It was about being present to the unexpected. Open to help. Willing to face discomfort. And humble enough to receive the gifts that follow courage.

At the trailhead, Jack waited with a smile and his own curiosity for adventure. We set out together for a cool-down along a wooden boardwalk that wound gently over wetlands, shaded by willows and reeds. A final grace note to a full and beautiful journey.

I ended the day not just tired, but deeply nourished.

Sometimes, the message comes before the meaning.

Sometimes, you start walking unsure — and return certain that the path knew what you needed all along.

And sometimes… the hardest climbs, the unexpected loops, the buzzing hives, and the surprise companions are all part of the medicine.