Burn Out
Dancing with death, burn out, unsolicited parenting skills, transitioning out of Wilderness Therapy, Integrating Moonsong Monarch into "default reality", embracing change...
Hello darling earthlings,
I write to you from the majestic Prescott National Forest. This forest along with the Tonto National Forest has been my home now for two years. Its a blue bird day outside, the birds are shining and the sun is chirping. The spring has all of life buzzing with vitality. It’s a wonderful day to break the silence through this channel. There has been a lot of changes since the snow melted in my inner landscape.
When I came back from Chile I dipped back into the backcountry to work with Anasazi Foundation. Here’s a glimpse of what my last week working in the field looked like which led me to take 3 months off work:
Chapter I
𓆧
Dancing with Death
Journal Entry written on December 19, 2022 ::: 5:00 am
Elevation: 2438 ft // Tangle Creek
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Yesterday I was asked to move from the Rabbit Stick band to Earth Band to be of extra support to the TrailWalkers due to some physical aggression within the dynamic of the group of young boys. Ridge and I drove a couple miles on a rocky road when we got to my drop off point. We were up 3,200 ft in elevation and from the ridge line we could see how the land would contour down to meet the ravine that would later on bleed into Tangle Creek.
“Follow the ridge line into the ravine 0.6 miles - as the crow flies - keep straight and at the fork make a right into Tangle Creek; that’s where you’ll meet Earth Band” Ridge kindly instructed me.
Ridge took out the maps and showed me on there too.
I got my pack, maps, and my yellow pelican case with all the communication devices out of the jeep and started hiking due East through the Nopales, Palo Verde trees, and Saguaro cacti which stood like giants hovering over me 20 feet high.
I bowed in reverence to them before going deeper into the canyon.
The Native peoples of this land the Apache (which they refer to themselves as Ndee biyati' / Nnee biyati) believed that when someone from their tribe would die they would reincarnate as Saguaro cacti and become guardians of the land.
A part of me hoped that by showing reverence in the form of a bow they would recognize me as land, earth community, or kin and hence worthy of their protection.
I felt alert as one often does when hiking alone in the wild. According to other TrailWalkers, the chances of being killed by a cow are higher than being killed by a mountain lion. Nonetheless, I felt alone and vulnerable without an Anasazi band to distract me from the potentiality of being someone’s dinner.
I climbed down the ridge line, crawling over boulders, sliding down slated rocks, grabbing on to the Palo Verde trees for support.
Where would I be without my relations?
Gravity would become me!
I do not walk alone, I then realized.
When I made it down into the ravine I followed the path of stone. I skirted around fallen trees; their dead branches would nonetheless grab onto my pack and hair so at times it felt like as if I was pushing through a spider web made out of contorted branches.
I kept following the ravine down. I could tell by the smooth polished stone pathway that there used to be water that elegantly shaped it at some point in time.
And then, I suddenly and inevitably encountered a ledge.
A drop off of 18 feet.
“Well it certainly didn’t look this sketchy on the map” I thought.
I studied the land before me, calculating how I could descend without injuring myself.
I noticed a tree. I tested some rocks I could potentially hold on to. They seem firmly grounded into the earth ((ok)). There seemed to be a bit of ground; a narrow ledge perhaps 8 feet beneath me ((ok)) with some of cottonwood roots sprawled here and there weaving in and out of the earth.
Without even thinking twice, I peeled off my pack with my pelican case and threw it off the ledge. My cup banging on to the ground “CLANK!”
Cortisol pulsed through my veins as I got a preview of what gravity could do to me. A wise voice within told me that freaking out or hesitating would do me a disservice because all of my personal belongings, all the things I need to survive alone, and communicate to ridge were now down there.
I squatted and tested the rocks that made up the cliff face once more and turned so I could face them- my back to the ether. I tried to find my footing. I had a good grip with my right hand but my feet dangled and danced an anxious dance as they searched for something! Anything! To support my frail, dangling body.
I was loosing my grip on the rock. The sweat made it slippery. ((ok this is where you fall and break something, or die! fear said)) “I can’t freak out” I told it.
As I slipped, my hands no longer gripping the stone, suddenly a root found my right foot a couple inches down and I was able to break my fall.
I stood on the narrow ledge with Elvis Presley legs shaking nervously. Blood pumping into my ears.
is this what its like to overcome your fears?
I grabbed my canteens from a branch and hugged the tree that shared the ledge whose roots had shot out to meet my feet and then I crossed to the other side where the ledge became a hill giving me a smoother way to descend.
I had felt death really close.
My angels even closer.
I slid my pack on, no time to waste. No time to attend any pity parties of my own as it was 4:45 pm and the winter sun descends around 5:30 pm.
As I walked out the canyon with my heart like a hummingbird wanting to fly out of my chest, I found the intersection where the ravine flowed into Tangle Creek. I followed my internal compass and right as I stopped to admire the cliffs covered in Saguaro Cacti, those noble guardians - Earth Band stumbled upon me.
Exhale.
I could feel my entire nervous system turn from fight or flight to harmony.
Something about community and togetherness was like a balm coating my heart with an energetic signature informing me, you’re safe.
The band welcomed me with an abundance of love, as they often do when someone new comes in to join their band (they love fresh energy). As we trekked on the boys excitedly shared their stories from the trail, showing me glimpses of their awakenings and growth. I savored each moment fully, allowing death’s taste to dissolve. What a gift to be alive! What a gift to get to experience this moment, I thought. I guess it wasn’t my time to go yet.
The boys eagerly chatted on, asking me questions as we hiked on. When we got to camp the TrailWalkers filled me in on what had been going on in the band. I asked one of the YoungWalkers (the one that had apparently been causing a ruckus) to have a sitting or a one-on-one, to get a sense for his story. Because surely, nobody causes a ruckus unless they're feeling it already within first.
Surely enough he shared stories that unfolded from pain, addiction, trauma from someone who was supposed to be his male role model. And anger. Lots of anger.
We sat and chatted until the sun went down. Our hearts cracked open by the space vulnerability and those densely charged, raw stories, naturally create. Truth spewing from the seams.
We tried scream therapy to get the anger stored in the body, out. Our screams echoed and reverberated into the canyon walls. He really dug that.
We tried shaking the anger off, we told the Earth “Take it! Transmute it! This isn’t mine to carry!” and once the ruckus was out I took out my small Tibetan singing bowl and guided him through a soothing meditation to seal the tiny act of psychomagic we had co-created before returning back to the surrounding grace of the crackling campfire that awaited us.
An offering from me to you :: A meditation to center and dissolve anger
Chapter II
𓀦
Burn Out
April 14, 2023
I left Reet in the city and allowed for my alter ego; Moonsong Monarch to step in and take the reins. This time around, especially after my last week in the wilderness and spending the past 3 months in Chile, I felt like integrating back into work by working a Rabbit Stick. A Rabbit Stick is the initiatory portion of the program in which you help the incoming wilderness therapy clients or staff integrate in the wild by teaching them how to make primitive fire, build shelters, cook in the backcountry, how to properly poop in the woods, basic hygiene, some Anasazi lingo, curriculum, how to carve spoons, and stay hydrated. Oh, and you also get to do a couple psychospiritual ceremonies for them to not only mark their transition but to help them leave behind physical and metaphorical things that perhaps are not serving them. It’s a blast. Until someone tries to run away.
Luckily, during the two years I’ve worked for Anasazi as a wilderness guide, I’ve never had anyone run away on me. Until that Friday. I was stepping into the office and this teenager (let’s call him Caelan) was stepping out. He didn’t know he would be spending seven weeks in the wilderness. Yikes. ((Hey, if you’re a parent and you’re reading this, please don’t do that; communicate lovingly and transparently to your children. Thanks.)) So obviously Caelan booked it. Two TrailWalkers followed to patiently and kindly get him to come back and eventually he did.
Four other boys arrived. One of them was being transferred from another residential program and also didn’t know he would be spending seven weeks straight in the backcountry either. He seemed pretty chill about it. I apologized on behalf of their parents (whom I don’t know).
“That’s pretty terrible. I’m sorry about that.”
“Its okay, I guess.”
What’s with parents sending their kids from residential programs to residential programs? Don’t they know that if they spend quality time with their kids, hold a judgement-free-space and love them HARD they can solve most problems?
Working with teenagers for two years I’ve realized that most adolescents don’t want you to give them solutions to their problems, instead they want you to hold space for the whole spectrum of the emotions they are feeling in a loving manner without criticism or advice.
Sounds counterintuitive no?
But, basically the best gift you can offer your children is your presence, deep listening, love, and attention. (You can also read more about how to parent according to some of the teenagers I’ve worked with at the end of this article).
How do you practice deep listening?
You want to be so focused in what they're saying you can basically give them a summary of what they just said after they finish talking. Although it might seem redundant, teens just want to feel seen and heard. If you can do this your kids will feel like you are someone they can trust to go to when things get tough, you’ll be able to understand where they are coming from, get to know them genuinely and most importantly keep them safe. Once you’ve earned their trust and respect you can give them advice when they feel ready to receive it!
After many visits from their psychotherapists, nurse and couple surveys later we got in the vehicles and made our way into the Tonto National Forest.
By the time we got to our campsite, night had fallen draping its blanket of stars over us, charming her way into our hearts and dissolving whatever was left within our psyches that hung on to the mundane urbanized society we are a part of.
One of the TrailWalkers got out their primitive fire set, busted a coal and manifested fire from the internal heat he mustered up through quick and consistent friction. Like moths to a flame, we gathered around the only source of light in a dark moonless night. I opened the fire circle by saying,
“Right now you are standing at a precipice, a threshold. Out here you will experience a metaphorical death. By the time you finish this program, if you have allowed Mother Nature to guide and teach you, you will have experienced a transformation and metamorphosis. Your essence will be the same but you will experience some sort of shift, perhaps you won’t know what has shifted, and perhaps you won’t know how to name it but it’s presence will be felt within you. A more deeply rooted you will emerge.”
We shared stories around the fire. The stories of what brought us out here particularly. Some shared they were here because they smoked pot and their parents didn’t approve of that, others because they simply couldn’t get along with their parents, others didn’t think it was cool to hold a silly talking stick and share. I mentioned that for me, I was in a way, rebelling our industrialized and urbanized society by choosing to not partake in it bi-weekly. That being in the backcountry offered a sacred remembrance of how my animal body could survive in the wild; connected to the elements, the electromagnetic field of the earth, the soft whispers of my own spirit and God. I mentioned how being out here was a sacred invitation to dissolve my ego and allow for spirit to use me as a vehicle, to speak through me and help others through me.
This job has humbled me deeply. Being Moonsong Monarch has offered a sort of a blueprint of who I could be in the outside world. I’m still working on integrating the person I am out here with the person I am in society. And then, like I often do when the power of sharing circles move me, I offered a song to close.
Song is “We Shall Be Known” by MaMuse. (You can listen to the original and better version here)
The boys crawled into their sleeping bags and whispered about how they were going to run away at first light. Us TrailWalkers never know what to believe. Sometimes they say those things to sound cool to the others. Sometimes they actually do mean it. Only first light would reveal the truth.
That’s when I started to feel it. The burn out I mean. It loomed over me like a dark cloud. The service work starts to feel heavy and the synergy mostly one-sided. I had felt it before and when I did I re-read “How Can I Help?” By Ram Dass and Paul Gorman feverishly. They explain burn out as:
“We feel as if we’re putting out more than we’re getting back. And are we making a difference anyway? We’re tired of being with needy people, and embarrassed or guilty about feeling that way. As our hearts begin to close down, joy and inspiration give way to apathy and resignation. There arises a range of emotions and responses we’ve come to call burn out… Having started to help others, we’re somehow getting wounded ourselves. What we had in mind was expressing compassion. Instead, what we seem to be adding to the universe is more suffering- our own- while we’re supposedly helping.”
I got really skillful in anticipating my burn out and treating it early by being gentle with myself, reducing stress, taking more breaks between shifts, as well as getting massages, acupuncture, energy work and sound healing from my naturopathic doctor after my shifts in the backcountry.
Through this I learned my limits, and was able to acknowledge my needs and the value in my self-care rituals. I grew to understand “that to have compassion for others we must have compassion for ourselves” (Dass, Gorman, 1985). I would also practice yoga in the backcountry, take personal time, or meditate to remember my vastness and to try to sweetly dissolve my ego’s story; that I was burnt out. Through this I was able to get in touch with the witness within; the one observing the thoughts, stories and emotions and hold myself in my own humanity. This practice helped me be much more present with myself and to the YoungWalker’s needs. I felt it was no longer Reet or Moonsong Monarch holding space for them but spirit holding space through me.
“As we reach a deeper sense of who we are, we discover how much more we have to give.”
-Ram Dass & Paul Gorman in, “How Can I Help?” (1985)
But this time it was different. I felt like surrendering to the burn out. I felt like a tired abuelita tired of chasing her grandkids, and deeper than that, I felt a profound yearning to be with folk that actually did want to be out here immersed in the wild, that actually do witness the magic that exists in the natural world and be open enough to allow it to shape and transform them.
Ram Dass and Paul Gorman explain that “the seeds of burn out are often sown in how we enter into the helping act and in what we bring with us - our motives, our needs, our expectations, the models we have for ourselves” and deeply in my heart, I knew before even going into the backcountry this time around that I had already outgrown my role there, that my roots had already grown robust and were needing a transplant into a new pot/environment.
This realization and the approaching severance, brought up a lot of grief for me. One of the most meaningful and transformative experiences I've had in my life has been working with Anasazi Foundation as a wilderness therapy guide. Learning how to survive in the wilderness utilizing primitive skills and depending on the plants in my natural environment to thrive has been incredibly empowering. It revealed to me my ability to be sovereign from the man made matrix of an industrial growth society and feel completely safe and at home in the wild. Spending sixteen days in the wilderness each month for two years has allowed me to develop and discover my ecological identity as well as my true belonging place on this earth.
Walking with the Anasazi clients in the wilderness has been foundational to my personal and spiritual growth. Working with at-risk youth brought up a lot of triggers for me, showing me the parts of myself I still had yet to heal. My own inner work positively impacted my performance within my role as a guide and how I show up for others, further fueling my desire to constantly improve, do shadow work and become a better version of myself.
It has been a privilege for me to form part of Anasazi’s clients’ transformational journeys for two years now. Leaving it feels monumental, like an era has ended. I feel gratitude for this “Alma School”; this school for my soul to grow in and yet I also have to honor that it is time to keep growing and sometimes that calls for a new environment.
While practicing deep listening, holding safe space and demonstrating unconditional love to Anasazi clients has proven to suffice, I feel starved for more tools, resources and skills so I can be of better service to at-risk youth, people participating in wilderness rites of passage and folk seeking to catalyze their own healing in general. For this reason I will be continuing my studies and will be pursuing a degree in integral counseling psychology and moving to San Francisco this summer.
I feel a lot of good juicy nerves as I cross through this liminal threshold in my life.
Will I be able to integrate Moonsong Monarch’s essence outside of the context of wilderness therapy and in the harsh environment of a city? How will I be able to integrate the medicine, lessons and embodiment even if my environment will not nourish or sustain it? This is the next task at hand.
The forest has held me accountable for my growth. Will my spirit anchor the unconditional love, patience, awe, presence, curiosity, serenity and blind trust i’ve felt here and carry that onward no matter the environment?
The burn out doesn’t allow me to harness all of it here and now quite honestly. All I can do is surrender and give it all to the cosmic heart. The YoungWalker’s guidance, it’s in your hands. It’s always been anyhow. It’s only my ego that been under the impression that it has reins over anything. Maya! What an illusion! It’s simply Maya.
Oh great cosmic laughter I invoke your confident bliss!
꩜
Resources::
Book on service: How Can I Help? (Stories and Reflections on Service) by Ram Dass & Paul Gorman
Videos: “What Teenagers Need (And How To Provide It) | Lisa Damour, PhD x Rich Roll Podcast”
Derrick Jensen on Ecological Destruction:
Alejandro Jodorowsky, Psychomagic, A Healing Art Documentary
Become a Wilderness Therapy Guide at your own risk: https://anasazi.org/employment/
Considering wilderness therapy for your teen? Have them explore Anasazi’s website FIRST to see if it would be a good fit for them and for you. (Yes, the parents have to go therapy too.)
I acknowledge that I work and live on unceded land and original territory of the Apache and Yavapai peoples.