Branches on a tree

Families are like branches on a tree. We grow in different directions, but our roots remain as one.

– Anonymous

The above quote hangs in my parents kitchen – curly black font across a shimmery gold canvas that I painted as a gift one Christmas. These words frame the experience of my family quite beautifully … each of us growing individually in different directions, but held together by a glue that rests at the core. I am fortunate in that I have two incredible parents. Two parents who love me very much and who support me in my endeavors. 

As we sit between holidays meant to acknowledge the impact of our Mother’s and Father’s (whatever that might mean for you) I want to take a moment to recognize my own, and the influence they’ve had on my life…on the shaping of the woman that I have become. 

Much like the relationships that I hold with my closest girlfriends, the relationship I have with my parents has been shaped by our adventures outside together. For the first few years of my life we rotated between a small home in southwest Portland, Oregon and a base camp cabin just outside of Redmond, Oregon, as my parents worked for the organization Outward Bound. Before I could walk or talk, my parents had me in a backpack carrier, exploring Mt. Hood’s National Forest. Family vacations consisted of week-long river trips, such as our adventure down the Snake River in Idaho. Weekends were spent hiking, climbing, kayaking or skiing. To this day, when planning time together, my family continues to focus on experiences centered in nature. 

In a recent podcast that I listened to, The Confluence on the show Dirtbag Diaries, a daughter shares all that she learned from her Mother, as well as how their relationship evolved, through their adventures outdoors. I teared up as I listened, thinking of my own parents and what I’ve learned from them through our time spent together in nature.

Evaluate the risk, but be okay with taking it 

My parents have taken a lot of risks in their lives. My Mom hitch-hiked across the country in her early twenties. My Dad spent weeks in remote corners of South America, existing at high elevations as he sat up climbing routes. Both my Mom and Dad were professional climbers and experienced outdoor guides before settling into the role of parents to my brother and I. While the risks changed a bit once they had kids, they continued to take them. These risks weren’t taken hastily, but instead always entailed careful evaluation. The danger was there, but it was minimized through preparation – scouting a rapid before taking their two year old son through the raging river in a drift boat; putting their daughter on lead climb but starting with a grade she already excelled at; snow hiking with not distinct trail, but having a map and landmarks to guide the way. Because of this, I have grown into a woman who is comfortable taking risks in my own life – having an awareness of inherent danger but not letting this keep me from coloring outside the lines a bit. 

Less really is more

My parents were never huge accumulators of stuff. Instead, they placed their attention on the collection of memorable experiences. Oftentimes the enjoyment of these experiences were actually elevated by having less stuff. I remember hiking South Sister, in Central Oregon, with my Dad when I was twelve. It was my first overnight backpacking trip and I wanted to bring a book with me to read at camp. The book was, Call of the Wild, by Jack London. It was relatively small, but my Dad said no, insisting that the extra weight it would add to my bag wasn’t necessary. We laugh about this today, as the book was so light that it wouldn’t have added any significant weight. The deeper lesson in this memory holds value for me though, we have to be mindful of every item we bring into our life…what we choose to carry. Items can weigh us down, hold us back, if we aren’t intentional with what we choose. Instead of focusing on collecting things, I try to focus on collecting experiences. 

Sometimes doing ‘nothing’, is doing ‘something’

I have spent many days out in nature where there really isn’t a whole lot going on. When you pack your belongings on your back for a week, or into a boat, there’s only so much you can bring with you. I have spent many rainy days in a tent with only a book, my journal, or a sketch pad. At first the lack of stimulation is uncomfortable. But over time, I begin to relax into it, letting the slower pace wash over me. In this slowness, I find the moments that at first glance might seem mundane, indeed hold so much gravity. There is a depth to be explored that might be overlooked in an otherwise hectic day. Those moments of nothing actually hold a whole lot of something.

✬✬✬

When I was younger I sometimes wished that my parents would take me to places like DisneyLand, as opposed to on another wet and cold river trip. I dreamed of staying in a hotel instead of a tent. Now, being older, I see how beautiful and special my time in the outdoors with my family really was. I only wish there had been more of those times and that I’d taken better advantage of my parents’ knowledge and expertise.  Not a lot of kids are able to experience all that I did, experiences that have shaped me into the woman that I am today, a woman who takes risks, who knows that less is truly more, and who understands the value of those ‘nothing’ moments. 

Now I am 31, my parents are 66 and 70, our adventures have shifted a bit. But when we come together, time outside remains at the center of our plans. I continue to learn from, and be inspired by, my parents. 

I recognize that not all are as fortunate as I to have such positively influential parents as guides through this life. I got lucky. If you do have parents, or guardians, who have guided you in some way, I encourage you to reflect upon this for a moment:

• List out a few things that you have learned from them? 
• How have they played a role in the shaping of who you are today?

To my parents, I say, “Thank you”.