The best way to heal is to keep climbing

​Three years ago today, I took an unexpected hike up to McAfee Knob. I thought I was doing it to keep my friend Celia company on her quest to run the length of the Appalachian Trail with our mutual friend Meg. Looking back on that hike, though, three years later, I know no one received more help than me that day.

I was very resistant to the hike. But Celia has the gift of persistence. Both in her own life and willing it into the lives of the people around her.

So up we went.

I was several months removed from a broken marriage. I remember hearing in those days, over and over, take time to heal. And I remember thinking in those days, over and over, who are you to offer your advice on my healing?

Celia never mentioned healing that day. I appreciate that about her. I appreciate that her way of encouraging me to take time to heal was to encourage me to stand on the edge of the world and walk away from it with my own picture of healing.

Pictures of my own transformation.

I look back on that day, and on the many days that have come and gone since, and I realize that little healing comes from advice. Little healing comes from reading books or consuming inspirational reels. Little healing comes from thinking about the act of healing at all.

Healing comes from going forward and up. It comes from taking action, from stepping out of the familiar and into the unknown. It’s in the moments where we push ourselves, not just physically but emotionally and spiritually. Healing happens when we engage with the world, when we help others, and in doing so, inadvertently help ourselves.

Sometimes healing is something we stumble upon when healing is the furthest thing from our mind.

That day on McAfee Knob, I wasn’t seeking healing. I was simply moving forward, putting one foot in front of the other, and focusing on the path ahead. It was in that forward motion, in that upward climb, that healing found me.

It’s a reminder that sometimes, the best way to heal is to keep moving, to keep climbing, and to trust that the act of going forward and up will lead us to where we need to be.

It's a reminder to keep people in your life who don't implore you to heal, but invite you to hike. There's a big difference between people who tell you where you need to go and people who walk beside you to places where you can figure that out on your own.

And it's a reminder that a hike can mean one thing one day and come alive with all new meaning three years later.

Life is so very cool that way.

So very healing.