I’m just a wildflower.

I’ve always been a wildflower.

I love to be outdoors. I love nature. I love adventure. I love adrenaline.

Oh, sure, I love cities, and shopping malls, and shoe stores, those are all wonderful things, but I am most blissful when I am hiking in the hills, in the mountains, or along the seashore. If there are flowers in bloom, I can barely contain myself.

Much of my focus, lately, has been on building my businesses, working out, and getting things organized. I’ve been so focused on all this I sort of lost sight of why it is I’m doing all why I do all the things I do; so I can enjoy life the way I like to enjoy it.

Upon this realization today, I made a spontaneous change of plans. I decided to go hiking.

I’ve been wanting to hike a local “wilderness” park, so I chose that as my venue for adventure today. I pulled my hiking clothes out of their hiding place, neatly folded in a plastic bin, under my bed. I pulled them on and laced up an old pair of running shoes. I filled up my hydration pack, grabbed my camera and headed for the door.

I’ve mentioned wanting to hike at this park a few times, and each time Mom gets visibly anxious. She is not much the adventurer, not much an outdoorswoman, though she’d argue with you if you said so. If I’m a wildflower, Mom is more of a houseplant. We are of very different mindsets; I’m an abundance mindset, she is a scarcity mindset. I fear very little, she fears everything. Mom lives what I call a “chicken little” life, she always thinks of the worst thing that could happen and offers it up as a reason to not do what you either want to do, or must do. So, on my announcement that I was going hiking, alone, in the “wilderness” there came the half-hour preparedness interrogation and assume the worst will happen quiz show. In Mom’s mind, my hike concluded with me lying in a deserted, wilderness, unconscious, with a sprained ankle, and no cell phone reception (but I’m unconscious, so that doesn’t really seem to matter), simultaneously being attacked by a rattlesnake, ticks, and a mountain lion. Perhaps by other mammals, too. Mom pleaded, “Can’t you think of a friend who’d go with you?” On a moment’s notice, on a Sunday, no. I was kind of planning on some solitude in nature, anyway. I assured Mom I was well-prepared, and, in fact, was trained in both wilderness first aid and wilderness survival and that the county park, though called a “wilderness” park, was far, far, far from the wilderness. And off I set.

As evidenced by this writing, I made it back safely, conscious, will all my limbs attached and operational, without any ticks, and snake venom free. I had a lovely hike that reminded me why work so hard to be physically fit (so I can ascend hills at an impressive rate) and why I like hiking so much; the peace, the quiet, the calm, the serenity, of nature and how it nurtures my soul.

I’m just not a houseplant, I’m a wildflower.



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