Acceptance – A Lesson from the Appalachian Trail

I have just returned from my ninth year of walking the Appalachian Trail. This year’s section was 115 miles in southern Pennsylvania, traveled on foot over the course of 10 days, with everything I need for survival and comfort strapped to my back. The challenge of hiking this trail over the course of the past nine years has broken me down and rebuilt me, forever altering my life outlook. It’s difficult to put all of what I feel into words, although I did try in my last post An Ode to the AT. 

During our first day out I had a conversation with my hiking partner Audrey, and asked her what lessons from the AT had stuck with her the most. Her immediate answer was “Acceptance.” I have spent the past week and a half turning this word over in my mind, tasting it in all of its different forms. I can relate to the lesson of acceptance on the trail, and recognize that this trek both requires our acceptance and offers acceptance to us.

Acceptance = Surrender

“…it was here where I came to know I can survive what hurts. I believed in my capacity to stand back up and run into the waves again and again, no matter the risk.”    – Terry Tempest Williams

Walking the AT is walking into the unknown. Each year I approach it with a series of expectations, and each year those expectations are challenged in new and unforeseen ways. This year Audrey and I thought we were taking on what is known in the AT community as “Rocksylvania.” We braced ourselves for miles of sharp points and crazy scrambles over boulders. At one point we came across a southbound hiker who informed us that we were going to face a wall of rocks over the next ½ mile of trail. I must have smiled at him because he looked at me and said quite sternly “It’s nothing to be happy about.”

While those rocks were there, we successfully navigated them all. Accepting the challenge let us surrender to it. Our entire trip was filled with moments like this, moments of struggle, moments of drudgery of putting one foot in front of another, moments of doubt. Along with them came moments of triumph, moments of wonder, moments where we just absorbed the world around us, and moments of laughter involving silly inside jokes and bits of made up songs. Truth be told it wasn’t all rocks, it was a little bit of everything, including hayfields, soft pine needle paths, and beaver dams. We accepted it all as part of the experience along the trail.

Acceptance = Embraced

As we accepted our moments, I came to the realization that the AT was simultaneously accepting us. There are no prerequisites for hiking this trail. The AT does not care what you look like, how much money you make, or where you are from. The trail only asks you to walk, to move forward. You can spend as little or as much time on it as you want, take a few steps or commit yourself to taking all 3 million.

Along the way, you will find a community of people from all over the world and all walks of life. You may walk alongside multi-millionaires or people who have lost their jobs. The trail accepts us all as equals, working towards the same goal, hiking our own hike, and supporting each other as we are able during our moments of struggle and doubt.

Acceptance = Community

The AT community is not perfect, but it is a model of our humanity and our connection. It teaches us that we can do hard things, and that we can let go of pretenses in order to love and be loved exactly as we are.