2020: the hits | part I.

“Things don’t really get solved. They come together and fall apart again. It’s just like that. The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy.” – Pema Chödrön

It was a year for making room, more than anything else. It often felt like one giant unraveling – a falling apart of epic proportions. When I reflect on everything that happened in my personal life I find myself a bit lost for words. It’s as though the fog has yet to clear and I’m standing here, squinting in every direction, desperate for some clarity or understanding. There was so much grief, so much confusion, so much stress, so much pain. And yet…there was so much good: bursts of joy, happiness, laughter, connection, healing, overcoming.

I wandered back through the year 2020, aided in large part by journal entries and timestamped photographs. Otherwise I might never be able to correctly estimate what exactly happened or when. I suspect many of our 2020 timelines are mostly a blur. What follows is my highlight reel, a few of my favorite moments, the greatest hits.

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1. Salt water baptism
   The temperature of the air was 53° F; god only knows the temperature of the water (let’s just say: very, very cold). Older couples walked the shoreline wrapped in layers of warm clothing and winter jackets (a bit dramatic in this Michigander’s opinion). Some stopped and stared at the idiot frolicking 30 yards out in the water, bobbing along with the waves and dipping below the surface, arms outstretched. The idiot was me. It was February on the Gulf Coast of Florida.
   
   Earlier that month, my partner and I ended our two-and-a-half year relationship, but decided to travel to Florida together anyway, as the trip was already planned and paid for. It was awkward, as one might expect, but we were determined to allow our love and respect for each other to guide us through the transition. He’s my boss, after all. We were going to have to learn how to return to some semblance of friendship. So there we were: fresh exes, figuring it out, a thousand miles from home.
   
   The ocean is one of my holy places. Something about the energy and enormity of that colossal pool of salt water calms every piece of me: body and soul. If given the chance, I will put my body in the ocean, weather conditions be damned. Until then I’d never been in the ocean when it was so cold, so crisp. My breath caught in my throat as my feet stepped tentatively into the shallows and my soles sunk lightly into the sand. My steps remained measured and absolute. I continued walking deeper and deeper until I was finally able to submerge myself fully. My body adjusted to the cold within a few moments and soon I was giving myself to the movement of the waves. I looked to my left and right – down miles and miles of beach. I was the only person swimming. It felt like I was the only person on earth.
   
   It was a prayer and a baptism…an offering of myself to the universe. I’d been through a lot in the preceding months, but all was well for the 20 or so minutes I spent surrendering my body to that cold, holy water.
   
   
2. Lockdown
   When our office sent everyone home to work remotely in March 2020, I was ecstatic. Beyond ecstatic. It was the single greatest thing to ever happen in my 14 years of employment. Finally, finally, I got to experience what it’s like to work remotely. I loved it. I didn’t shower for days on end. I stayed in my PJs all damn day. For awhile, I set up an air mattress in my living room in front of the TV and spent a great deal of time there – working during the day, taking naps for lunch, eating snacks and watching Netflix. I reveled in the isolation, which is usually my preferred method of existing anyway.
   
   We went back to the office in mid-June only to be sent home again in early-November when the number of Covid cases began increasing and several members of our team were exposed; my boss tested positive. Now it’s January and we’re still working remotely. The novelty hasn’t worn off…though I suppose, I suppose, if I’m being honest, I’m the type of person who needs some structure to my days and some better-version of myself looks forward to going back.
   
   It was both fantastic and disastrous for my mental and physical health. It was both easier than working in the office and much more difficult.
   
   
3. Steps and dirt and blisters
   I hiked more miles in 2020 than in any previous year. Maybe it was because my options were limited or maybe it was because the woods are one of the few places I find peace in times of chaos. Whatever the reason, I threw myself into hiking with fervor and urgency in 2020.
   
   My favorite hike was a brutal two-day backpacking trip along the North Country Trail (NCT) and Manistee River Trail Loop. It worked out to be about 24 total miles and it was originally supposed to last three days, but the elements had other ideas. I started at the northern tip and set out down the west side of the loop – the NCT side. The climbs reminded of the smaller mountains in Georgia – strenuous and somewhat unremarkable in terms of views. It was May…still off-season and I only encountered a few other hikers.
   
   Despite hiking within a half-mile of the massive Manistee River, I passed zero water. The streams on my trail map, which were supposed to provide drinking water sources, were bone dry. It was the first in a series of obstacles. For the first time ever, I found myself genuinely concerned about hydration. I ultimately abandoned the NCT and marched down an ATV trail about a mile, praying the whole time I’d encounter the teeny stream barely visible on my map. I ended up at what can only be described as a mucky puddle, but it looked like pure salvation to me. I was thrilled to climb down that muddy embankment, fill up my water bottles, and drink through my Sawyer filter.
   
   I ultimately completed nearly 11 miles that first day – more than originally planned. I set up camp at the top of a hill in a solo-camp site. It was so beautiful and peaceful. I ate dinner watching the sunset, covered in dirt, utterly exhausted. I strung up a bear bag 50 or so yards down the trail so as not to attract bears (this proved to be more difficult than I imagined as I struggled to catch my rope over the proper branch). Eventually, wrapped in my down sleeping bag with nothing but the sounds of nature to keep me company, I collapsed into sleep.
   
   By the end of the second day, I was bloody and bruised, covered in mud, stinking to high hell, barely able to walk with an ever-widening hole on my left heel, and happier than I’d been in a long time. It’s hard to explain to people who hate hiking / backpacking / sleeping outdoors, but it’s one of the most deeply satisfying experiences I could imagine. To carry all you need on your back. To tackle the elements alone. To fight through whatever happens because there is no Option B. It’s thrilling and empowering. It’s one of my life’s greatest love stories.
   
   
4. Books and teachers
   As always, my years are largely measured in books and art and teachers. Twenty twenty was no exception. Favorite non-fiction books of the year:
   – We Are The Luckiest (Laura McKowen)
   – Blue Nights (Joan Didion)
   – The Tender Bar (JR Moehringer)
   – Girl, Interrupted (Susanna Kaysen)
   – Quit Like a Woman (Holly Whitaker)
   – Patrimony (Philip Roth)
   – My Booky Wook (Russell Brand)
   – Brain on Fire (Susannah Cahalon)
   – Kitchen Confidential (Anthony Bourdain)
   – Lost Girls (Robert Kolker)
   
   I read more fiction in 2020 than I normally do – which is probably a testament to the collective need we all experienced to escape the harshness of reality. I fell in love with Shari Lapena (every. single. one. of her books is phenomenal). And, as they always do, Gilly Macmillan, Ruth Ware, and Paula Hawkins provided incredible sources of entertainment.
   
   Newly-discovered teachers / tools / fun stuff:
   * Hafiz (Perisan poet)
   * Joe Rogan Experience podcast
   * Enneagram types / work
   * Sam Harris (Waking Up App)
   * Elizabeth Strazzante (artist / painter)
   * Jimmy Chin (photographer, mountaineer, documentarian)
   
   

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