This photo was taken at Rock Creek in the Eastern Sierra a couple of years ago.

It was one of those trips filled with camping, hiking, climbing, and the kind of conversations that only seem to happen around a campfire or on a mountain trail.

It was also a trip where I developed a terrible headache.

Instead of enjoying the day the way I’d imagined, I found myself needing to slow down and let other people help me. They checked in on me and made sure I had what I needed. They adjusted their pace without making me feel like a burden. 

Their attention, care, and love flowed over me and into the nooks and crannies of my being.

Thinking back at the years of taking trips like this, it’s clear that this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened; I’ve experienced physical challenges and emotional vulnerability on outdoor adventures before.

And somehow, again and again, Mother Nature has offered me comfort through the generous hearts of the people beside me.

There’s something about being outside that seems to strip away the illusion that we have to do everything alone.  In fact, we cannot.

Rather, I’ve started to wonder if allowing ourselves to be cared for is its own kind of strength.

It creates space for love to go where self-sufficiency never could.