Lessons of the Wild

The responsibility of raising a son has never pulled so heavily on me. The weight of knowing that I am solely responsible for shaping this small human into the person that he will become for the rest of his life. The knowledge of all of the things that I want to teach him, hard fought battles I want to save him, valuable lessons that came at a price that I want to keep him from having to pay because, when it comes right down to it, I think I paid enough for both of us.

But, the question on my mind more than any other is how do I teach him these things? How do I give to him the strength that I gained from fighting through an unstable, fearful childhood? A childhood without the things that it is easy to feel all children are entitled to, such as food, reliable shelter, running water at home, the security of living in the same house for more than a few months at a time, a parent there to see them on the bus in the morning and to be there after school, and perhaps most sadly, what oftentimes felt like without love.

While I certainly would have changed it at the time if given the chance, my early years shaped me and defined my future in a way that I am now grateful for. Those years taught me independence, resiliency, and adaptability; they gave me grit and strength and the knowledge to know that no single situation defines who I am and what I can do. Those years ingrained in me that when things get tough, the only way out is through; through fear, beyond pain, past loneliness, and right on by failure. And that on the other side of all of those things are success, passion, happiness, fulfillment, self-validation, and love.

As a parent to a 13 year old son that is quickly being molded into the man he will one day be, the best answer I have came up with for how to teach my son the things that my hard fought childhood brought to me is through the wilderness. Backpacking trips that teach him to place value on the essential things in life and leave the rest behind or else he’s going to carry the weight of them on his back up the mountain. Slot canyon trips that teach him that the world is so much bigger than the current path he can see in front of him and that he has to remember to look up and around and sometimes even behind him to see the beauty and power of where he is. Mountain bike rides that teach him that he will get out of life exactly what he puts into it because he has to pedal himself up that hill before he’s able to come down it. Canyoneering adventures that teach him that unexpected things happen that he’s not prepared for; that the route is sometimes longer and harder than expected, that there’s less water and more climbing than planned, that there are spots that he can’t make it through alone and force him to rely on partners, and most importantly, that once he starts down a route the only thing to do is to keep moving forward through whatever the canyon puts in his path and that eventually the narrow walls will open up again and there will be sunshine and happiness and relief and accomplishment waiting for him as rewards for what he endured.

So while I live with the uncertainty of many decisions I make as a parent, I also live with the hope that with the wildnerness as my classroom I can give my son the gifts of tenacity, grit, persistence, resiliency, and confidence to know he can take on whatever life throws at him, and that regardless of how tough or lonely or scary things get, I’ll be there on the other side of that mountain or trail or canyon with open, loving arms waiting to cheer him on…and to plan the next adventure.