Have you thought about the weather being a metaphor for life?

I thought about it a lot during this section, as it returned to a stable state, and I felt comfortable and at peace after going through days of a heat wave, intense thunderstorms, and rainy days. The weather and our lives are constantly changing, whether we like it or not. Both are beyond our control, teaching us to be flexible and to adjust our attitude and mindset accordingly.

When I was an environmental educator, I liked teaching about weather because we can observe it and stay connected to our natural world, no matter where we are. I continue practicing to read the weather and enjoy making my own predictions. My weather forecast has become the most accurate compared to weather apps on my phone. I used to rely mostly on my eyesight for making the prediction. Now I smell and notice the change in the weather.

The weather significantly impacts my feelings. After leaving Dalton in the gorgeous evening light, I made it to Cheshire, MA, on the cool sunny morning the next day to pick up my resupply at the post office. I felt relaxed and content. I took my time at the post office lobby to reorganize my food, and ate my second breakfast without thinking about how to adapt to the challenging weather and keep moving.

During the heat wave, I made a lot of adjustments: slowing down, drinking twice as much water as usual, eating more, changing my schedule to hike at night, spending more time in the brooks to cool off, and resting more. The hills that are usually easy became much harder to climb. I found a way to keep moving without much change in the amount of ground that I covered. When the intense lightning thunderstorm hit the town of Salisbury, CT, I just so happened to be on the pathway of the incredible force of nature. I wasn’t prepared for it, and I dealt with the consequences: I was scooping up a bowl of water from the floor of my tent, squeezing water out of my wet clothes, and using my body heat to dry them out. It was supposed to be an evening with a lot more downtime than usual to rest, but alas, the plans fell through. During the rainy days, I chose to stay at a shelter, which was my first time on the AT, even though I knew I wouldn’t enjoy it, but I did it anyway to keep my tent dry for a day. I didn’t move as much as I wanted to, and I accepted that I moved more slowly than I wanted to.

I felt annoyed, unpleasant, and uncomfortable sometimes, but not the entire time. I also felt calm and thankful. The universal truth is that nothing is permanent, and the Earth usually keeps everything in balance: the storm will pass, and the blue sky with sunshine will appear. After the rain, we have a lot more water, and I can rely on streams that were dried up running again.

Life is like that, right? There are times when things are smooth sailing. You’re just living your life without noticing much of a change. You feel pleasant and content. And then, things happen here and there; some bring joy and happiness. Some are difficult, sometimes catastrophic. We keep living our moments, events, milestones, and feelings until the time is up for us to leave this world.

We embody nature within ourselves, just like how weather patterns and our lives are similar because we are part of the ecosystem.

As much as I wish the pleasant, warm, and sunny weather would last forever, ultimately, I know it will not. I learned to stay humble, be prepared as much as I could in my best ability, and move through whatever comes my way. This attitude is useful for living my life. The only thing I can control is myself, have little expectations for people and things, practice to stay in a moment, take small steady steps, stay grounded, so no matter what happens, I know how to flex myself, wait, or keep going.

Things will pass. It is helpful to know this fundamental truth. On day 2, out of Cheshire, I was climbing towards Mount Greylock. My pack was the heaviest since I just had a resupply, and the climb was over 2000 feet. I was moving slowly, feeling the weight of my pack, and I knew it would get easier every day.

On day 3, when I arrived at Hell Hollow Brook in the late afternoon and took a dip to cool off before climbing up to Glastenbury Mountain, I smelled cigarette and felt nauseous. There was a couple at the bridge smoking, and I knew it was just that moment, and I’d be okay.

Later, I made it to the top of Glastonbury Mountain in the late evening, planning to watch the sunset and sunrise from the observation tower, and found out it was closed. I was bummed, and I knew there would be more opportunity for watching the sunrise and sunset somewhere. I set up my camp for the night alone on the quiet peak, enjoying the solitude. Then a guy came up, telling me how desperately needing to find a cell reception. He made a phone call loudly, not too far from where I was, and I was annoyed. I stayed in the moment and reminded myself, “This is just temporary. He will leave.” On day 4, on my way to the top of Stratton Mountain, I heard footsteps behind me, and I turned around, saw a huge smile on another thru-hiker of color, climbing the hills with strength and speed with explosive joy. I had not seen a thru-hiker like him. I was stunned. I hadn’t seen a single thru-hiker of color for hundreds of miles, and there he was. He passed me, leaving me a sense of belonging and a feeling of relief. He left with a hope to see another thru-hiker of color again- sometime, somewhere. On that night, I found a beautiful camp for myself just south of Spruce Spring Shelter. The evening light was beautiful. There were no mosquitoes. It was such a pleasant evening, and then, I heard loud music blasting from the parking lot a mile below me. It went on through the night, and I was annoyed. Again, I reminded myself, “It will pass sometime at night.” When I woke up, I was greeted by silence, and soon, the birds started singing. I felt pleasant. On day 5, when I made it to the top of Bromley Mountain and saw New Man, the thru-hiker of color who passed me the day before, I was so happy. We talked for a while, connected, and I said goodbye with the hope we would meet again. But who knows? Life goes on.

Like nature, our life moves forward in a cycle of unpleasant and pleasant moments. There’s no going back. If I can live my life like flowing water by the time I leave this world, that would be amazing. That would be an art of living.

So, I go, live my life on and off the trail, keep looking up at the sky, and pay attention to the weather, reminding me that yes, the weather is a metaphor for life. Both are constantly changing, whether we like it or not. It’s easier if we can learn to be flexible, and change our attitude, plans, and mindset as it rains, shines, or storms. It’s just a way for the art of living on this beautiful planet.