4AM on a mountain in the dark

Things have felt really hard lately. 

There’s so much going on in the world.
And there’s been so much going on in my life over the last five years. 

And it’s formed a sort of collective weight on my shoulders. Something that meditation and beach walks haven’t been able to lift. 

So when we started our 7 hour drive to Acadia National Park last week to go hiking and camping, it was needed. Like needed on a soul level. 

For seven days, I got to walk away from normal life and go hang out with trees and mountains and a different section of ocean for a while. 

I hoped it would help me recharge. I had just felt so disconnected to things that usually lit me up. I was really banking on a change of scenery to turn things around.

Which is how I found myself on top of a mountain in the dark at 4AM, cup of tea in hand, fighting a teenager for my corner of the blanket, waiting for the sun to rise with a bunch of strangers.

‍While I am a morning person, I am not that much of a morning person. Getting up at 2:30AM after a long day of driving was a lift, y’all. 

I was definitely having second thoughts about it all around 4:30AM when my tea ran out, the cold wind picked up and the rock I was sitting on felt like an icicle. 

But as people started to wake up a bit more, conversations began to bubble up and little moments of connection moved in. First it was quiet jokes about the cold and the insanity of being on a mountain before dawn.

Then it led to people talking about where they were from, why they were there. Someone had just learned they had been accepted to college. Another group of friends were reuniting after time away. A photographer dodged in and out trying to find a place to set up for the perfect shot. 

As the sky started to turn silver, people started asking strangers to take their picture – some for proof they had been there, others as a memory with loved ones. 
‍

Slowly the sky began to shift to peaches, oranges, yellows then pinks and reds. And all of us sat there with child-like anticipation. Just a bunch of strangers waiting for the sun to rise.

And then a bright, fiery ball of red popped up on the ocean horizon and there was a collective breath in and a moment where conversation stopped. And as it came up, a cheer rose and people clapped and laughed. And joy rolled like a wave over everyone present.

All about something that happens every day. Over something that most people don’t pay attention to. But, together as a group, our collective awe made it into the most spectacular thing a person could see. 

And in that moment, I felt something release. I felt a little of that weight fall off my shoulders and onto the ground. I felt a little more connected to the earth and to humanity.

I realized that the kind of heaviness we’re carrying right now – all of us – can’t be released or healed on our own. There’s something about it that requires us to come together. To do life together more. Even if it’s something as simple as watching the sun rise. 

Things change in different ways when we take time to connect with each other– in ways that don't happen when we’re on our own. 

It’s through connection that we’re able to step outside ourselves for a moment, see things differently, and come back with a new way of looking at the world. 

I’d love to hear about the last time you had a moment of connection with others that shifted something in you? It doesn’t have to be big. Hit reply and let me know.