Pittsburgh draws near and I decided to look at one last book that follows a woman who definitely took a different approach to dealing with grief and loss than I did as a young child, Cheryl Strayed's "Wild, From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail". As I read about her upbringing in the backwoods of Minnesota and then her trials on the PCT, I couldn't help but be two things. Amazed by her determination to reinvent herself through the closest one can come to throwing themselves in a literal fire, and affirmed in my strong belief that I am truly a city boy at heart. There is a certain serenity to the wild, a toughness in living for you and you alone, and for dealing with nature's domain when you step away from man's meticulously fabricated universe. But for me, I see her journey and all that it bought and ask, "Why not just meditate". I suppose to each his/her own. Maybe one day I might take a trip into the wild to reassess my universe should I feel that it is falling apart. That one day probably won't be soon, but Pittsburgh and the next stage of my life start within a few days. Godspeed to anyone finding themselves through the most extraordinary of ways.
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