Under the scorching Arizona sun, I trudged into Superior for a half gallon of milk, a DIY haircut, and both a shower and laundry at the house of legendary trail angel MJ, the Purple Angel. When it came time to leave, I was less than excited to get back on the trail. The heat had been oppressive during the middle of the day, so I left late, lingering along the trail, barely making more than a mile or two out of Picket Post Trailhead before calling it a night. Somewhere in the grueling miles of Superstition Mountains I’d reached the point in the long distance hike where all the bits and pieces of my psyche began unraveling. Part of me was no longer bound by who I was, what I’d done or believed. I could see the history of this person without attachment, without judgement, only a deep compassion for all that it had experienced. I was truly grateful for being alive, for all that had happened, for everything yet to come. And though the stars whispered tales of the journey yet to be unraveled, I looked forward to whatever the future held, without expectation.
#AZT #sobo