GUEST rEVIEWS

I know its cliche to say that there are truly no words to describe the experience I just went through. I found myself in the strangest, most magical place this country has to offer. 

In ONE day I had my toes in the ocean, desert sand running through my fingers, explored the endless mountains and found myself completely present in the colors of the rainforest.  I fell in love with moss, with strangers, with the conversations we had and with myself. I found myself turning every corner, and excuse my profanity, saying "Holy Shit", "This is fucking incredible", "I just cant get over it".  

The pivotal point in this trip was atop Misery Ridge at Smith Rock. Despite all the darkness and difficulties in my life, James hit the nail on the head, when he realized that I don't rationalize quitting. These last few years, I was so overcome with the bullshit life was throwing my way, I lost myself and that fight. Sitting on that ridge, with my mind, body and soul that has felt broken for so long, just conquering what felt like the world. I sat in the comfort of a tree twisted with the force of life, crying, at peace, lost in the weight of the world and the power it has to heal you.  

Sometimes you have to have great people and organizations like West for the East and a change of pace to realize how much more this life has to offer us.  Take what you want and need from this but know that the only thing holding you back from comfort and healing is most of the time, yourself. Also get your ass outside.  T

hank you West for the East, Thank you Oregon-- Thank you Life. 

A NOTE FROM BRANDY: TRIP #1  The wind was howling as I carefully sat down, straightened my legs out in front of me, and then relaxed my posture to let my feet dangle off the edge of the cliff. I firmly pressed my hands into the red rock around me for security as I looked across the exquisite canyon and down to the ground below me. Holy shit. HOLY SHIT.  

On our way into Zion National Park I reiterated to James that I would be totally fine on the trails but that I was terrified of heights. Enough so, that even more than a couple moments on a ladder makes me feel dizzy. This is a fear, I have openly owned the majority my life.  During the hike in Zion, I found myself searching along the trail for exposed cliffs that I could perch myself upon. Almost always, I would sit down and hang my feet off the edge. And each time, I would likely use a variety pack of profanities followed by some giggles.  

To add to it, I road horseback on the edge of Bryce Canyon, climbed up and through the narrow channels of slot canyons in Escalante, rode down switchbacks on the Burr Trail, and took in the views of Canyonlands from the very edge of the most breathtaking rock formations.  With every park, every trail, and every step, I found myself growing in assuredness and confidence.  And as it turns out, I am not afraid of heights. What I am afraid of is discomfort, uncertainty, the unknown, trusting others, and trusting myself.  

Metaphorically speaking, there’s something powerful that happens when you’re in nature. You’re forced to face elements that are imperfect. You walk into the unknown, leaving everything you know behind you. You’re forced to trust yourself to make the right steps. And then sometimes, you have to trust a complete stranger to be there for you if you mess up, or in some instances, repeatedly tie your shoes.  

The message I hope to convey here is that I didn’t just go to Utah and see sick views and get Instagram worthy photos. I experienced what it’s like to let go of distractions and fears that rob me of being present. I was right there, in those moments, simply living.  

Thank you West for the East