por Jessica Sánchez

Close your eyes for a second and think about being alone in the wild. How does that make you feel?

A while back, I decided to do what is sometimes not fully understood by my Hispanic family, go out and explore the wilderness. I wanted to take the leap and give myself an opportunity to step out of my comfort zone. I knew I was going to be dirty, I knew I was going to be tired, but most importantly, I knew I was going to be alone.

I grew up in a big Mexican family and can remember hearing the sound of my mothers’ laughter as she talked on the phone in one room while my father played Mexican folk songs on the guitar in the other. My childhood consisted of being surrounded by people and the noise that came from them. In the Mexican culture, this “noise” meant community. Community with people, food, music, and our culture. The noise brought a sense of comfort, and in the community, you were never alone.

One thing about the community is that it also comes with it’ own standard of beliefs. “Mija, your skin will get dark, so remember to put sunscreen on when you’re outside.” my mother would say months before I left. I know she means well, and I know it’s hard to break old beauty standards, so obeying mama’s orders, I slathered on the sunscreen. To this day, even though I am miles away, my mother still reminds me to take care of my skin.

“But, won’t you feel lonely out there in the wild?” my cousin asked. It’s not very common you hear of Hispanics backpacking or escaping into the woods. So it was natural to have been bombarded with all of these questions leading up to the trip. Though after hearing them repeatedly through every goodbye, they started to stick in my head. “Will I feel lonely? Will I become too dark and not feel beautiful anymore? Will I hate it?” I had all of these questions in my mind months before leaving. With no answer to any of the questions, I knew the only way to find them was to just go. So, nervously, I drove off.

Hike after hike, campfire after campfire, I started to realize something was changing. At first, I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. It wasn’t until 5 months of living on the road that I realized that something was me. I was becoming more comfortable with being in solitude. In times of exploring the cities near the parks, I found myself wanting to just get away. What was happening to me, and why did I want to be alone? That’s not how I was raised. That night sitting by the campfire in solitude, I realized that it wasn’t a matter of being by myself but rather with myself.

In times of solitude, I was able to hear my breath as I pushed hard to finish my long hike, the wind swirling above me as it moved through the valley of the mountains, the trickling sounds of the crystal clear river as it passed through the meadow, and the soft hoots of the owl underneath the starry night sky.

For once, I had mental clarity and could sit down to read, write, and think about what truly brought me joy. I could endlessly practice my yoga, work on the roots of my own anxieties, and unapologetically dream about my future.

I could sing.

I could dance.

I could play.

I could meditate.

In the wild, I could completely strip down and embrace my beautiful brown skin as it got darker with every hike under the sun. In the wild, I could look however I wanted and feel accepted as nature never discriminated. There are no words to say otherwise.

I was in solitude, and I was okay because I was with myself.

Now, I can’t speak for every Hispanic out there, but as you already know, in the past, I found myself struggling with moments of solitude as I felt lonely. I would feel extremely fearful and doubtful about the entire experience; I wouldn’t enjoy the moment. Whenever I was alone, I found myself missing the noise and vibrant sounds that came with always being around my community and my big Mexican family. I love it; it’s what defines my childhood, my past memories, and defines the very person that I am today. I would love to come back home with a message that solitude doesn’t necessarily need to be a bad or sad thing but, on the contrary, a dedicated time for yourself. I have slowly learned to take those experiences of solitude I’ve gone through in my life and turn them around to create inspiration for myself, and now hopefully in yours too. I would like to be an advocate for more voices of diversity on the road, change the way we approach the outdoors, and provide the ability to enjoy a beautiful life of exploration.

As I lay here and listen to the rustle of the green leaves in the trees above me, I will graciously summarize my thoughts with this…

As of late, I found myself more and more in the silence of nature. I found myself within the trees, the mountains, the flowers, and the waters. No sound of people around me. While I’ve roamed deeper and longer into the wild, I’m finding myself slowly being pulled farther and farther away from the crowd, not by choice but by realization. Realizing that when you find time to be with yourself, you’ll find that you start to accept yourself for who you are. You’ll start to notice things around you that went unnoticed before. You’ll go through phases where solitude will start to guide you, educate you, empower you, and even spark curiosity in you. You’ll start feeling inner happiness that roots from a new place inside you.

For me, these landscapes haven’t said a word to me, and I’m realizing now, 29 years later, that that’s exactly what I’ve needed.

So, my dear friend, I’d like to ask you, Close your eyes for a second and think about being alone in the wild. How does that make you feel?