becoming the moose
on strength, determination, and tenacity
The only time the world is ever truly quiet is after snowfall in the wilderness. Everywhere and everywhen else there is always something making noise.
In urban centers, it is the cacophony of industry and emergency. In natural spaces, there is the constant of birdsong and trees moving as invisible air currents shift around them. And of course, the ocean transmits anything from a lapping swell and sway to crashing, tidal monstrosities.
I was 18 years old in the middle of the Wind River Range of the Wyoming, Rocky Mountains. It had snowed about a foot in the last 48 hours and our little group was already 7 miles from the closest road access.
I felt like I was walking through the landscape of Middle-Earth except that when I looked my shoulder I didn’t find a band of hobbits. Instead, there was a ragtag group of lanky hikers outfitted in discount adventure gear, carrying 60 lbs of supplies on their backs.
During my gap year between high school and college I did a Semester in the Rockies with NOLS, which included 5 sections: whitewater kayaking and rafting, mountaineering, rock climbing, a Wilderness First Responder certification, and canyoneering.
Before this experience, the most intimate relationship I’d had with the great outdoors was car camping with my folks when I was little, and later snowboarding as a teenager.
As a young person and woman, my time in the Mountains did more for my self-belief, esteem, and confidence than I can truly capture. I witnessed my body’s endurance and strength, as well as my mind’s capacity to overcome challenges that initially seemed impossible. I watched the emergence of my own perseverance, leadership, and stubbornness. I watched myself do things that I admired.
I gained a new perspective on who I was and could be.
For the first time in my life, I impressed myself.
On the morning of our story, our cohort had split up into 3 small groups with the plan to meet up at agreed-upon coordinates in 6-8 hours.
About an hour after we left camp, we were hiking along the snowy slope of a ravine when we looked up and saw someone from the previous group hurriedly walking back to us without their pack.
My first thought was that someone was hurt.
But before we could ask what was wrong, they put a finger to their lips and beckoned us forward with an eager wave. We followed them quietly up the hill until they mimed for us to take off our packs and follow them off trail a short way.
We came over the crest of the rise, and there was the rest of our cohort, kneeling in the snow. Gazing in silence two full-grown moose less than 100 feet away.
A cow and a bull.
Snowflakes were floating down between the pines. She was laying on her stomach, with a dusting of icy white on her flank. Beyond her through the trees, you could make out her mate. Standing still but at rest. His canoe-sized rack reaching upwards from his brow like a crown. I was dumbstruck by their hugeness. Her skull - from brow to snout - was the length of my entire torso and head! And you could tell that he was considerably larger than she was.
The image seared into my memory.
The quiet, held breath.
The fluffy white flakes drifting in quiet relief against the dark silhouettes of moose, tree trunks, and the shadowy underbelly of the forest beyond.
The hushed sense of awe.
A singular, stolen, unlikely moment.
While we were captivated by the tableau before us, you could also feel the primal awareness that we were precariously perched on the edge of a deadly change in the wind.
We stayed just long enough to absorb our luck, and then we slowly and quietly departed to give these majestic, dangerous creatures their space.
One by one we collected our packs and resumed our journey into the mountains and the winter secrets they held.
This was a coming-of-age moment that instilled in me an inalienable respect for the dangerous beauty and force of nature.
Nature, I realized, was not to be fucked with or disregarded. When she decides, the decision is final. She is to be revered and respected. To be appreciated and approached with vigilant humility. We are not exempt from her power. We are guests here and we will bear the consequences if we do not act accordingly.
I appreciate the humility this experience has given me over the years. I can’t unlearn what it feels like to be but a molecule in the greater ecosystem of Earth. I find this smallness comforting and special. It makes me feel a fierce responsibility for what I do touch and impact, while also helping me relax about the grander scheme of things.
This was also probably the beginning of my existence as an optimistic nihilist, but that is an exploration for another day.
The Name Change:
I have been in search of a project name that speaks to me and what I realized while coaching someone else on naming their company is that if you try to name your art for an imagined audience, it loses its intimacy to you and your unique artistic signature.
I chuckled to myself realizing I had not applied this same advice to my own work.
What already had an enduring meaning for me in my life?
Island origins? Yes, but I am not currently writing from or about islands.
The Salish Sea? Absolutely. But it didn’t feel right to use a native place name for my projects.
Woodpeckers? Herons? Both birds connect me to my mothers, and they have the uncanny knack of visiting me when I am in need of love, guidance, or reminders. But despite my personal joy at spotting birds throughout my day, I admit that they lack the poetry, gravitas, or cheekiness that I feel inside myself.
What about… Moose?
Hmmmm… what about the creature that visited me during a defining moment that seemed to mark the first days of my adulthood? That animal that feels viscerally intertwined with my own awakening to what I was capable of? That symbol that serves as a constant reminder of the paradox of my own power and inconsequence?
The animal I saw last Monday driving home from Snoqualmie Pass?
I guess we’ll find out together.
According to a-z-animals.com (lol), “The moose… is often associated with strength, determination, and tenacity. It's also a symbol of good fortune and abundance. When the moose appears in your life, it's a reminder to stay grounded and focused on your goals. Moose also represent introspection and stillness.”
Invitations and Promotions:
Last chance to sign up for the Making Friends Workshop happening soon…
(We had to postpone because I got a terrible cold. I received the sweetest responses from attendees. It reminded me that being a robotic, perfect “professional” isn’t really the name of the game. We are in a community and we care for each other. There is space for us to be human. To get sick. To give ourselves permission to rest.)
I am hosting this one-time workshop on making friends and building community as an adult.
Everyone craves friendship and a sense of belonging. Even the most extroverted and seemingly confident of us! This is for anyone who wants to deepen or cultivate new, wonderful, friendships!
What we’ll cover:
the importance of belonging and how to cultivate it
how to embody your whole-dang self so that enriching friendships are attracted to you
discernment and determining which people are the right fit for you
how to build trust with others (and yourself)
how to make sense of friendship loss or difficulties
and real-world strategies that foster new connections in meaningful ways
Click here to learn more and sign up!
Tiny Gifts:
Walking the lake, I saw a bunch of middle-school kids holding up signs. Everything from pride, to “I'm Asian & black”. They were chanting and my sense was that they were out with signs after having class conversations about standing up for what you believe in. There was a power to it. It gave me goosebumps. It made my heart beat fuller to see children being taught that their voices and values are powerful. That they inherently hold the power to create change. It made my eyes misty.
I just learned that something I love about the winter is the naked branches of the tree canopy. How you can see the dark, ominous silhouettes of crows against the low, cloudy sky. How you can spy the outline of an eagle’s large nest that is so well camouflaged in the lush spring and summer months. The lines are so sharp and particular. Earth is the ultimate artist.
Am I becoming reclusive or simply enjoying the peace of keeping my own company? Maybe both.
Forehead kisses are the most wonderful expression of affection. They are all generosity. There is no ask. There is only give. I love giving them away like the limitless resource they are. And I delight in receiving them from trusted loved ones.
This week’s song, which had me singing in the car and hitting the steering wheel to the bit without knowing a lick of lyrics: