Unraveling, with Brooke Baldwin

Dearest Unravelers and Unravelers-to-be – 

I write to you today filled with hope. I know it may seem paradoxical these days given everything that’s happening around the world — and yet, I am hopeful. Maybe you are too. There’s a sort of magic in experiencing so much darkness and being able to locate and live in the light. 

Tiptoe through the tulips… in Boulder

Speaking of the light, I was recently in Boulder, Colorado. I freaking love Colorado. The mountains are majestic. Being near them makes me feel closer to God. And the people who live in Colorado — y’all are some kind of special. Kind. Nature-loving. Open-hearted. Peter and I went on a beautiful hike while we were there and were consistently getting lapped by these… this species of human called “trail runners.” Do you know one? Maybe you are one! “On your left!” they would effortlessly shout as a way to kindly pass us slowpokes walking up the mountain. I couldn’t help it. I stopped to let them pass, then just stood there and stared. Their lithe, fearless bodies and muscular legs, leaping over boulders like ballerinas on their way up the incline. I consider myself decently fit. But holy hell, my body will never do that. Neverrrr. So I see you and salute you, Colorado!

Here I am on the trail with Peter not running, not leaping, not pirouette’ing up the mountain. Boulder, CO

I don’t know about you but for me, hiking up a mountain is — I wouldn’t say it’s effortless because it is damn hard, but as a type-A, goal-oriented, love-a-good-challenge, appreciate-the-uphill-push kinda gal, I find it very rewarding. I’ve faced enough uphill battles in my life (and I mean that in all the ways) to know exactly how to place one foot in front of the next, keep my head down and breathe. Focused. Determined. Present.

But on our hike I remembered something about myself: I suck at going down the mountain. Sure my right knee still slightly screams at me (ACL knee surgery in high school), but, like, I hate the going down part of any hike. As I was finding my footing on the steep descent in Colorado, my mind instantly flashed to the time I climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro in Tanzania ten years ago (I took a GoPro — watch, cry and laugh with me here). That was the most challenging thing I’ve ever put my body through. I talk about it like it was yesterday because I’m still slightly incredulous I pulled it off. But after our group summited the 19,345 feet, it was the steep downhill through the rocks in the hot sun that had me bawling like a baby in the end. The six day ascent, got it. The first few hours down? I wanted to die.

So on this hike in Boulder, as I was navigating the rocks and having to slow scramble down this one stretch for much longer than I anticipated, I could feel a similar sensation coming on. My frustration quickly started to spike. Then the self-talk and comparison started: How are all these people effortlessly dancing down the mountain, and I’m on my ass nearing a crawl? Remember those trail runners who I was in awe of on the way up? Yeah. I wanted to (momentarily) murderrrrr them on the way down. I’m pretty sure one of them leapt over me.

Brrrrrrooke — What is really happening to you? Get curious, girl.

I’ll tell you below what I’ve realized — and how I believe there is this massive shift happening among us. Keep reading or hit the “subscribe” button below.