McKenna's Gist

Whenever I play the social ice-breaker game “Two Truths and a Lie,” I always say, “I’ve jumped off a 60-foot cliff, I hiked the Grand Canyon when I was 16, and I’ve seen 3 bears in the wild.” Most people guess the 60-foot cliff story is the lie, but it’s really about the bears. I’ve seen 5, all in Arizona.

I couldn’t tell you when I first truly fell in love with nature. My first memory of camping with my family in Idaho should have sealed the deal in the opposite direction. We were quite poor and had virtually no equipment in the beginning of our family camping endeavors. Our sleeping arrangement consisted of the six of us, my mom and dad and three older brothers, lying side by side in our sleeping bags, all under a single blue tarp. I was on the outside edge. It rained. All night. And I remember lying with only half my face and body covered by that blue tarp stretched out flat across our bodies, simply accepting that this is the way it was. 

I rarely accepted anything that way, though. My poor parents. They were patient and unconditionally loving. But I fought everything. I fought against the idea that I was a girl. I fought against how slow and boring high school was, and graduated early. I fought against taking my time with anything, rushing through my bachelor's degree in Recreation Management, rushing into my marriage, and tried rushing into having kids, but my parents strongly suggested getting a dog instead. We’d had dogs growing up—my childhood dog lasted from 3^rd grade until I was a sophomore in college!—so I loved the two beagles I got. Then I had kids—two girls—back to back. I ADORE them.

Nature always helped me re-center, helped me fight just a little less. There was nothing to accomplish out there, per se. I just needed to be. 

After several years of struggling in my young adulthood, I let my life go in a healthier direction, reintroduced myself to nature, and felt her warm embrace. It’s where I know myself best. It’s where I can see others more clearly. And it’s there that I accept, once again, that this is the way it is.