I have a long relationship with the question of the word unique. Different. Questioning whether each of us is unique, or just shades of the same. That's what your early twenties are all about, right?
I now firmly believe each one of us is unique. We each have unique finger prints, tongue prints, self-talk, voices, ways of relating to this physical and mental world we live in.
From these unique people come unique families, chosen and/or born into. As time marches on the definition of families morphes more and more, something that I love. With each passing year my gratitude for my intermediate family grows deeper and deeper.
The family I was born into never lived small.
We were each born into a household of an everchanging cast of up to 20 characters, with love for the mountains flowing in our blood and the love of the wind on our skin. We are city kids, with mountaineers living inside of us.
The man who started it all, my dad, upon first glimpse of the mountains on a family vacation opted to just start running towards them from a rest stop rather than getting back into the car with his mother, sister and brother and drive. The fire started with intensity that has never left my pops.
My dad's climbing buddy has always been my Uncle Mike. They have been all over North America, from Mt. Robson to the Grand Teton. Their range of choice was the Canadian Rockies. Every summer they would spend weeks backpacking and climbing.
My fierce, loving, superwoman mother fell right in step with them. Never questioning why she was bringing her small children into high altitude grizzle country. She was what, and still does, make our steps beat, our motivation strong, and our stomachs full. She dove into the mountains head first with my dad, heading into the mountains whenever time allowed. (She has saved a number of lives throughout the years----especially my brother Andy. There's a couple doozies in our family history.)
Our family vacationed out in the Canadian Rockies every summer. At the age of 5 each of us kids would get initiated. Our parents strapped a backpack onto us packed with toilet paper and our clothes for five days. We learned how to survive in the back country.
The memory of my first trip to the mountains is one of the clearest of my childhood. Loading up our big brown Volkswagen van and burrowing into corners of it for two days. If we were lucky we'd stay the night at the El Rancho in Wayburn, Saskatchewan. Lined up on beds or in sleeping bags on the floor.
Other times my parents powered through all the way to Canmore.
I digress.
My first trip. We packed into Mosquito Creek for the first pack, an easy one. My parents testing out their five year old daughter's will power. I remember my eldest brother whittling boats for the four of us and we would race them down the creek everyday after our day hikes. For the first time I felt this incredible sense of joy and peace all at the same time. That came to be the feelings of the mountains for me.
Our second pack on that trip was into Cataract Pass. A much more difficult pack. This was my parent's testing their five year old daughter's grit.
A couple miles into the hike, after my dad had clipped off and bird called back with my three older brothers. I stopped. Sat down on the trail, and started crying. I looked up at my mom and said, "mom, I can't go any further."
After some ill received encouragement my mom simply looked at me, said "okay. you stay here. We'll pick you up in five days." She turned and kept backpacking up the trail.
Being alone in the mountains as a child is a peculiar experience. Every sense becomes heightened. The air feels hotter, the woods seem noisier. Flash forwards of sleeping on the trail and being discovered by an Elk, Moose, or Bear started zooming through my imagination. Okay, thought five year old Nina, stop being such a wuss. Stand up and put one foot in front of the other. Just like mom says, all you have to do is put one foot in front of the other. With that mantra I got up and made it to Cataract Pass, and boy was it gorgeous.
A similar scene went down when I was nine. Scene change to Colorado, I was climbing my first fourteener. Almost to the summit I stopped before a big snow patch and declared surrender. My mom, again keeping her cool, said okay see ya on the way down!
She smartly knew that I had to learn how to self motivate and that my healthy Kolar competitive side wouldn't let me not finish. I had to connect with myself, I had to know my purpose of making it to the top in order to put my strongest foot forward. The mountains were testing me. I was testing me. I kept trudging along up to the top. All the while beating in my head, "one foot in front of the other, one foot in front of the other." I felt a lotttttta pride writing my name onto the list of people who had summited that mountain. At nine years old, eating lunch above the clouds, feeling untouchable, along with that joy and peace.
Over the years the rockies have tested each member of our family in a different way. Our appreciation for them runs deeper every year. Still to this day we pack up our cars every summer and trek out, not stopping until we smell that sweet mountain air, feels it's wind tickle our faces and whisper adventures into our ears.
This year's trip was a bit different. We all decided to go to Montana. Two weeks ago Kolars hailing from St. Paul and Detroit descended on Red Lodge. Ranging in age from 68 to 1 1/2 years old. We hiked, climbed, fished, swam, ran, drank, ate, laughed, cried, and got stopped by cows. A lot.
I am incredibly blessed and lucky to have such a close knit band to call my family. We are a tribe.
On this year's trip I thought a lot about the similarities between my love for the mountains and my love for yoga.The two go hand in hand often, in people, lifestyles, ideas, clothing brands, more and more all over the place. I thought a lot about why the two seem to fit together. For me what it boils down to is climbing, hiking, yoga, they are all about testing yourself. Learning how to put one foot in front of the other. How to carry what you need on your back. How to bathe in glacial streams in the time lapse of three push-ups. Learning how to calm your mind in plank pose, how to have faith in your abilities. How to see the teacher in each moment; good and terrible.
In the mountains I have found my strength. In yoga I have found my calm. In the highest altitudes, on the hardest ascents, I have found the truest form of myself. For me, and many others, the mountains test us of our own choosing. We seek different teachers in every switchback, rock, boulder field, glacier, every second of it. We want to see how deep our grit runs. What makes our hearts beat. Away from all the commercialism. The constant pounding of society trying to form you into a piece that fits into a picture. Good or bad. In the mountain air you are free, in every challenge you become lighter, every step forward feels more sure.
I am forever grateful to my family, my parents, my awesome siblings born and married in, for teaching me how to test myself. My parents, for taking us out into nature and never thinking twice about it. On each trip I come away with a deeper understanding of myself, my family, and an appreciation for the world around me.
Yoga has instilled that in me as well. Through the combination of the two I have had beautiful moments of self study. Revelations that have made my heart sing and my soul shine. Revelations that have made my heart heavy and my eyes cry.
Both have tested me. I continue to be amazed at what I learn.
I can say one thing for sure. I have learned that above all you cannot control what other people do. You cannot control the future, you cannot change the past. No matter how hard you try.
What we have is this moment. This very second. You are alive. Your heart is beating. Do the world a favor, do yourself a favor, and re-acquaint yourself with you. What makes your heart beat, what makes you laugh so hard you can't control what your body and face are doing and you don't care. What makes you feel like you're flying---where do you find life--find joy. When you see more of yourself, more of the magic around you, then start to put one foot in front of the other. It's only in knowing ourself first that we can work towards helping others and the world. Greeting challenge with fervor and excitement. Greeting fear with love.
It has become incredibly important, in the events of the past couple weeks, to live this life. This authentic life. The more you love. The more you choose your light. As Marianne Williamson said, the more you shine your light, the more you unconsciously give others permission to do the same. To find their own light. We need that.
So explore. Get out of your comfort zone. When your flight or fight kick in, put your head down and say, "One foot in front of the other." You'll get there. And the reward is well worth it.
To quote the late, great, Robin Williams,
" To quote from Whitman, "O me! O Life!...of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless...of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life." Answer. That you are here - that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play *goes on* and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be."