The Moment I Put the Heavy Backpack Down

After sharing the recent evolution of my services, I found myself reflecting on it and questioning the why’s of things which can come up during a shift of this nature.

Even though we know that the decision is the right one for us. The hike seemed to hold the deeper story behind that shift.

Recently I returned to one of my familiar places — — expecting a normal hike.

The weather was beautiful, cool enough to move easily through the desert, and the trails I know so well were waiting.

But something felt different.

I started down Slate Trail and turned onto Quartz, moving toward a saguaro I often stop beside. It’s one of those quiet markers on the trail where I tend to check in with myself.

As I stood there, I asked a simple question:

“Are we meant to continue today?”

I walked a little further, but the answer was already forming in my body.

Up ahead, I could see a hiker approaching in the distance. Behind me were a few people I had passed earlier on the trail.

For a moment I felt suspended between directions.

If I kept going, I would continue forward toward the person ahead. If I turned around, I would meet the people who had been walking behind me.

Neither option felt like the real question.

The real question was whether my body actually wanted to continue at all.

It’s funny how quickly the mind tries to make something simple feel complicated.

Push a little more.

Go a little further.

Keep moving.

But my body had another message.

I felt unusually tired.

Heavier than usual.

And suddenly I became aware of my backpack.

It wasn’t heavier than normal — the same water, electrolytes, and supplies I always carry.

But in that moment it felt symbolic.

When I’m trying to carry everything, it’s heavy.

When I stop trying to be everything for everyone, it becomes lighter.

So I turned around.

And the moment I did, my body almost sighed with relief.