Consider the Wildflowers

Share a story about the furthest you’ve ever traveled from home.

I stare out the window as we drive. I spent months daydreaming about this place, and now I see that it’s more beautiful than I ever imagined it would be. The trees are taller than any I’ve seen in my life; the leaves a bright crisp green in the summertime. It’s mid July, but the breeze is so nice it feels like it could be an afternoon in October. We ascend higher and higher, and I can see the winding road before me from the back seat of the car. My ears begin to pop, signaling that we’re getting closer to the beginning of the mountain, the starting point of our exciting hike.

There’s music playing in the car as we drive. The song that’s playing is quite fitting for the scene around me: small flickers of light trickling in between the dense leaves on the trees. I glance forward, wanting to catch a glimpse of the radio without being too obvious: “The Lady on the Corner” by Geordie Little. I pull out my phone and type this into the notes section. I never want to forget this moment, and this song will surely be one that will bring all of my fond memories flooding back someday. Here I was, in a car with three people who, no more than six days ago, had been complete strangers. Now, as I travel this road with them, I realize they are people who I’ve come to know incredibly well over such a short period of time.

In December of 2018, I applied to attend a two week summer seminar in Enfield, New Hampshire. After weeks of refreshing my email an unhealthy amount of times per day, I finally received the message I had been so anxious to see: I was accepted. This two week seminar was a music seminar, specifically for percussionists. I would get to spend my time there learning from some of the best teachers and performers in the percussion world with 39 other college students in the beautiful state of New Hampshire. 

I was beyond excited. Nervous, but mostly excited. The day of my departure – the beginning of this new adventure – came faster than I could imagine. Before I knew it, I was traveling cross country with a teacher and mentor of mine. Two days later, we had reached our final destination.

The housing they provided for us was located on a historic site known as the “Shaker Village.” We stayed in the museum, also known as the Great Stone Dwelling, which had once been used to house the people of the Shaker Village. It was several stories tall with beautiful staircases, carpets, and high ceilings. We rehearsed and attended seminars in the broom shop, the chapel, and the dairy. We attended evening masterclasses across the street in the old stone mill.

I felt as though I had stepped back in time – the museum we lived in had no air conditioning, we had to drive to town on the weekends to wash our clothes, and after each meal we were all expected to do our part and help clean the kitchen and the large dining room. These things developed an amazing sense of community amongst all of us who were attending, and I formed friendships faster than I ever had before in my life. It truly was an unforgettable two weeks, but the moment from that trip that I will forever carry with me is that Sunday afternoon, our free day, when we hiked Mt. Cardigan.

The boy driving the car is Brendan. He’s preparing to start grad school in the fall. He sits quietly as he drives us up the winding road. In the passenger seat, there’s the boy from Tyler. He’s sitting there talking wildly about electronic music and rap – two of his favorite things. Tyler isn’t shy in the least, and he never talks without engaging his hands and arms. He too is preparing to start grad school in the fall, so the two of them talk in the front and bond over the nerves and excitement this new chapter brings. In the backseat, I’m sitting next to the boy who just graduated high school – George. He’s preparing for a brand new chapter of his life, and I really enjoyed getting to talk to him about his future plans for college. He’s the same age as my younger twin brothers, so I have a soft spot in my heart for him, as he reminds me of them.

And here I sit, the girl who is experiencing the in-between moments of life. I have just finished my sophomore year of college, and I’m still completely unsure of what I want to do. I truly don’t know what the future holds for me, as I haven’t thought much about it yet. I don’t worry about this though, because I know I have plenty of time. Nothing new is beginning, and nothing familiar is ending. I am simply here, living, and I find a lot of peace and comfort in that.

We round the corner and park at the foot of the mountain. We leave the car, find the trail, and begin our journey up. I have never hiked before in my life, so I am incredibly unprepared. I have no backpack, and I am carrying my phone in one hand with my water bottle in the other. This isn’t horrible at first, but the further we go the more I realize that I’ve made a terrible mistake.

At first, the hike doesn’t feel like much of a hike at all; or rather, not what I expected a hike to feel like. The trail is mostly flat, and the woods we are walking through are dense. Though it is the middle of the day, the many trees have made the trail quite dark. We slowly begin to ascend higher and I find myself having to use my hands on some parts of the trail to pull myself up. George sees my struggle, as both of my hands are full, and he says, “want me to put your phone and water bottle in my backpack?” I look up and say, “yes please!” This makes the rest of the hike not only easier to navigate through, but more enjoyable as well.

I remember how surprised I was to discover how quickly the trail went from oh, this isn’t bad at all. This is so easy to oh no, my hands are full and I need them to keep climbing. I’m starting to get out of breath, my legs are cramping, and I’m in constant fear that with one wrong step I’ll take a horrible fall. When George turned around and offered to keep my belongings in his backpack, the hike was suddenly a whole lot easier to climb.What is so interesting to me is how this simple interaction has played itself out in so many other areas of my life: I have often found myself in a really great place. Things are going smoothly, and the hike is simple. Though my hands may be full, I don’t mind. I’m not out of breath, I’m not tired, I’m just simply walking and living. But then sometimes, things take a turn when I least expect. Suddenly the trail gets steeper, and I have a hard time navigating through life with all of the things I have found myself trying to carry. However, I have found that there are an abundance of friends and mentors who have been there to carry some of those things with me.

Though George helped make my experience hiking much easier, it didn’t change the fact that it was still physically exhausting. I was out of breath, and the mountain kept getting steeper as we went, naturally, as we were getting very close to the top. We saw so many beautiful sights as we ventured upward: natural streams, small waterfalls, and intricate rock formations. It was breathtaking, no pun intended. And even though I was physically exhausted, all of that seemed to disappear from my thoughts as I focused more on how beautiful the things around me were.

We reached the first clearing. We weren’t at the top yet, but we were finally out of the thickness of the trees. I climbed up the rocks in front of me, putting one foot carefully in front of the next. Finally, I stopped on the flat surface to gaze out at the view. What I saw was a sea of trees expanding far and wide. Where they ended and something else began, I couldn’t tell you. To me, it looked like all the earth was here, in my view, and that the only things that existed were this mountain and its ocean of trees. We stood in this spot for a very long time, basking in its beauty and the sunlight that we had been deprived of for most of the hike thus far. “I’ve never hiked before,” I said aloud to my three friends. George and Brendan both looked at me, wide-eyed. Brendan said, “just wait until we get to the top. You’re in for a real treat.” And with that, we turned and continued upward.

After this first clearing, we didn’t have much longer to go until we were at the very top of the mountain. Our path was now the steepest it had been, and we were climbing on solid rock. The trees, mud, streams, and waterfalls had disappeared long ago, and we were now out in the open taking in the views and the sunshine. When we finally made it to the top, Tyler screamed, “we did it!” We high-fived and walked around together to examine the beauty that was the top of the mountain, the long awaited destination of our journey.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. This topped the view at the first clearing, no doubt about it. The trees were never ending, and you could see other mountains off in the distance. These mountains were so far away that all I could really make of them was the tips – the endless ripple where the earth meets the sky. It looked as though someone had taken a large paint brush to the world, and honestly, I really did feel like I was in a painting. The view I was seeing far off into the distance seemed unreal. It had to be a green screen or something, surely. I began to think about all of the life that must be happening over on that side of the world. Perhaps there’s a group of college students over there hiking those mountains – basking in the beauty of the world around them. Little do they know of the very similar lives we’re living all the way over here.

We remained on the top of the mountain for a really long time. We sat, enjoying each other’s company and the view. Conversations started, and I found myself growing even closer to these individuals and bonding with them. I started to feel like I had known them my entire life. I talked with Brendan, and he told me he marched Gateway indoor drumline based out of St. Louis, as did I. We didn’t march with the group during the same year, so I never met him there. We ended up discovering that we had tons of mutual friends. I couldn’t help but think the entire time, how crazy is this – I’m all the way in New Hampshire, hiking a mountain, and this person happens to be here too? And he’s close friends with some of my best friends from school?

I had the same experience with Tyler. We started talking about PASIC, the percussive arts society international convention that takes place every year. He told me about an incredible Mbira ensemble that he watched perform during their dress rehearsal. Little did he know, I was performing with that ensemble. I looked at him, completely shocked and said, “no way, that was my school! I was performing!” We both thought this was incredible, and we said to each other, “what are the odds that we’re here now, talking about this on top of a mountain in New Hampshire?”

I can’t tell you much about the hike back down the mountain, as I don’t really remember it. The only thing I remember is Tyler running full speed down the whole way. When the car started and we were all seated, “The Lady in the Corner” began to play right where it had left off. We drove down the winding road and I watched out the window just as I had done before. The sun was setting, and I remember thinking to myself that I would never forget this day for as long as I lived.

Perhaps the reason this moment in my life is so memorable and important to me is because of the way I felt while I was living it and because of the way I felt even after it had passed and became a memory. I realized something that day: I find immense peace in knowing that there are others around me who feel the same way I do – in knowing that there are people hiking up the mountain of life with me; helping me through all the obstacles it throws my way.

Through the conversations I had at the top of the mountain, I learned that the world is so much smaller than we think. I remember talking with Tyler and Brendan and looking out at the never-ending land of trees and mountains. I remember thinking that even though the view seemed to be bigger and wider and deeper than I could even comprehend, that the world itself was much smaller than I once believed.

We stopped at a small local restaurant before heading back to the Shaker Village for the night. I remember sitting outside at a table overlooking the water and sipping on the best milkshake I had ever had. Truthfully, it was just a normal milkshake, but it tasted so good after a long hike and a wonderful day. I sat with them: Brendan, Tyler, and George, and we enjoyed our milkshakes and each other’s company. We talked about a lot, I’m sure, but I can’t remember any of it. I only remember how I felt sitting there with them. It was a perfect end to an amazing hike. I hope my future hikes are as memorable as this one.

This trip revealed to me that there’s great beauty in feeling lost, but I found that there’s even greater beauty in the comfort of knowing there are others who feel lost too. I don’t know, but maybe life isn’t about getting to the top of the mountain and knowing all of the answers. Maybe it’s about continuously finding the strength to make the hike. I have found that I’ve taken a few paths I didn’t recognize and that these were often places that were a little harder to trek through than others. But at the end of the day, the view I get to see at the top makes everything I’ve gone through so worth it. Not because I finally made it to the top, but maybe because of the journey I went on to get there.

Anytime I need a reminder of this, or a reminder of community – that I’m not alone and I never will be, or maybe even something as simple as a reminder of what sunshine feels like in the summertime: I put my headphones in and press play – “The Lady on the Corner” by Geordie Little.