Letter 26: Leaning Into Nature
When hiding becomes an uncovering
Happy last Wednesday of October!
I’m so happy to welcome Denise LaFountaine today. Denise is a good friend of Nadine’s and Denise’s willingness to courageously bend toward vulnerability in her letter today is a gift for each of us. Nadine shared with me about Denise, “She has been one of my best friends since we were five years old. We came from different backgrounds yet there was something very synergistic about our friendship. Today, almost 55 years later, no matter where our lives have taken us, we still manage to land somewhere nearby each other often enough to hug, laugh and cry a few tears just to make sure we’re still breathing. I’m sure I don’t tell her often enough, but I could not be more proud to call Denise my oldest (yes oldest), but more importantly, my strong, brave, remarkable, badass friend.” Today’s letter definitely shows this very strength and bravery first hand.
“Opportunities to find deeper powers within ourselves come when life seems most challenging.”
Joseph Campbell
During the summer of 2019, I rode my bicycle 3,000 miles from Bremerton, Washington to the Arctic Ocean and back. It wasn’t my first long distance bike ride, but it was the first time being alone for days on end in the untamed wilderness of Northern Canada were grizzlies and wolves outnumber people. I didn’t plan to be alone, but that’s precisely what I needed.
A year before I left on this adventure, I was blindsided by a second break-up. It felt like being slammed against a brick wall and then nearly pummeled to death. I was knocked out and couldn’t get back up. I laid in a crumpled mess for nearly a year in what could only be described as, “The Dark night of the soul.” Learning to stand upright proved to be just as painful as the gut punch of a break-up.
After a year of therapy, I mounted my bike and rode north into the wild. Although I was afraid for all the obvious reasons, there was an element of being alone and isolated that felt “normal.” In fact, it felt good. A year of therapy was barely enough time to uncover the reasons I had built an impenetrable fortress around my heart. All I knew was that this wall kept me from real connection and intimacy which was the reason my relationships kept imploding in the first place. I was just beginning to understand that emotional neglect in childhood led to an insecure attachment to my parents which carried over into all my relationships.
At first, my body felt out of sync with my evolving sense of self. I felt awkward, sad, anxious and in despair all at once. I guess you could say I was depressed, although I didn’t know it at the time. All I wanted to do was hide from the world, which is exactly what I did.
The ride was smooth and easy until I left the urban part of Vancouver Island. As soon as I hit the remote areas, it became real. The roads stretched on for endless miles with the only sound coming from the wind rustling in the trees, a babbling stream or chirping birds. I started my mornings in silence until the brooding was impossible, and I could no longer tolerate my own worn-out thoughts. As soon as the looping started, I had music and podcasts to distract me from lamenting the past.
Understanding why I trusted no one, not even myself, was a relief, but just the beginning of the journey. I knew for sure that those nasty breakups needed to happen in order for me to crack open and move into the direction of wholeness. On the surface, it seemed counterintuitive to isolate myself, but I instinctively trusted nature to hold space for me while purging mental garbage that no longer served me.
Over the many miles, I howled, sobbed, laughed, screamed, wept and pleaded with the divine universe for mercy. Like a snake, I laboriously shed the layers of unworthiness that kept me small. It was a slow, painful process for three ephemeral months. It felt primal, wild and necessary. Little by little, my heart attuned to the high frequency of nature that is pure love and acceptance.
Riding became a soothing meditative practice. I no longer loathed my thoughts. I was able to sit with grief over longer and longer periods of time without having to mute it with sound or food. Silence became my riding companion. Over the long and steady hours of cycling up hills and around curves, feelings of shame and unworthiness were gradually slipping away and miraculously being replaced by joy, gratitude and self-forgiveness.
In the remote, isolated stretches of northern Canada, silence allowed me to assimilate new truths. My body was discarding emotional pain at a cellular level. Mind, body and spirit were gradually lining up. Cradled in the magnificence and grandeur of the sacred wilderness, I was slowly becoming whole. I felt authentic for the first time. Nature, in her kind and loving way was teaching me to love myself.
Denise’s Five Favorite Things
One of my favorite sports is biking. My favorite bike is the Surely Long Haul Disc Trucker. She is like the Russian grandmother of touring bikes. She is sturdy, strong and no-nonsense. There is nothing glamorous or trendy about her, but she will protect you until the end. She’s a keeper.
I am also a big swimming fan. The outdoor pool season is over in the Northwest, but Yost Pool in Edmonds decided to stay open during the fall. I’m loving my early morning outdoor swims whenever possible. They truly kickstart my day.
I love podcasts. Hard to nail down just one. But right now I’m listening to Jedidiah Jenkins, “Question the Self.” He is a fellow long-distance bike rider whom I have followed on instagram for a while. I’m excited he now has a podcast. He’s younger than me, so part of me hopes his cool hipster vide will rub off on me (so far it hasn’t).
Love anything chocolate but always gravitate to Seattle’s own Theo’s Chocolate. This chocolate is organic and free trade, so it’s basically health food. I figure I’m doing my body a favor by devouring it in mass quantities. I can only buy 70% or 85% chocolate bars. If I buy the bars with sea salt and almonds and all the goodies they mysteriously disappear before I get to the car.
A shout out to libraries! I spent nine months of covid in my small home town. The saving grace was the little art deco library I went to as a child. It brought back so many memories. Who knew all these years later I would be driving up to the curd with a mask on waiting for the book hand-off as if it were a drug deal going down. At any rate, this little gem kept me sane.
With gratitude,
Denise LaFountaine
P.S. Have you experienced something like Denise? Her experience of learning more about herself reminded us of Kristi, Beth, and Renae. What have you discovered about life when you least expected it? Share with us in the comments.
As usual, fantastic. Love you long time (literally). XOXO, Na