The Backpack of Life: Learning to walk through the storm

Today was rainy, windy, and foggy but unlike other days, I was ready. I knew what was coming. And with that knowledge came a quiet strength.

I started my morning with intention: a nourishing breakfast, a grounding meditation, and the best effort I could muster at waterproofing myself (quotation marks very much intended, because let's be honest nothing seems to be waterproof when you're walking under relentless rain for hours). I packed my bag with care and set out.

The route today was about three and a half hours long, but after two and a half, I made the decision to stop and take a cab the rest of the way. We had stopped for lunch, and the chill had sunk deep into my bones. I couldn’t imagine another hour of walking just to prove something to myself. So instead, I made a decision based on ease. That in itself felt like growth.

I carried my full backpack today, thinking the shorter walk would balance it out but two and a half hours later, I could feel every pound. Yet here’s the strange part: it didn’t feel as heavy as it did in the beginning of this journey. I realized that my body has adapted to the weight. It’s built strength, resilience, capacity.

That observation brought up something deeper: how easily we adapt to burdens, not just physically but emotionally and spiritually. We can get so used to carrying the weight of a life that doesn’t truly fulfill us. A job we don’t love. A routine that numbs rather than nourishes. A relationship where we aren’t fully seen. Our nervous systems learn to cope, to normalize, to endure. But just because something becomes familiar doesn’t mean it’s aligned.

I’ve lived that specially in relationships. It wasn’t until I experienced a better relationship with myself that I realized how little I had expected from others. Sometimes, we don’t even know how heavy our backpack is until we put it down.

And yet, that same principle works in our favor too. Our bodies and spirits can also adapt to strength. To courage. To joy. We can learn how to rise, how to endure and grow and thrive. That’s what this walk is teaching me, not just through the blisters and the aching knees, but through the quiet conversations I’m having with myself as I put one foot in front of the other.

This journey is not about testing my body though it does that, too. It’s about being present. About observing how I move through challenge and ease. About dancing with the universe, moment by moment.

And today, the universe showed up for me in the most unexpected way.

I arrived in a tiny town so small, most restaurants were closed and there wasn’t much in sight. I found a hostel, but was told they didn’t accept dogs in the dormitories. Bruno, my service dog, wasn’t allowed. I calmly explained the situation. I didn’t argue. I didn’t get upset. I just trusted that it would work out as it needed to.

A few minutes later, the worker returned to tell me that the owner had approved a private room for me—for the same price. I walked in and found myself standing in a room with a second-floor balcony, completely shielded from the wind, overlooking the vast ocean. Waves crashed against rocks below, sunlight poured into the room, and I was gifted something I never planned for: a million-dollar view.

I hadn’t requested it. I hadn’t orchestrated it. I simply let go and life filled in the blanks in the most beautiful way.

This is the gift of surrender. Not passive resignation, but active trust.

When we stop clinging to control, when we stop trying to force life to meet our expectations, we give it space to exceed them.

Of course, the weather didn’t get any gentler. At one point today, we walked through hail, with absolutely no shelter in sight. But in the midst of that storm, the sun peeked through. For just a few minutes, golden light danced on the trail ahead.

That’s life, isn’t it? Storm and sun. Blister and breakthrough. Surrender and serendipity.

Yesterday was hard. I had a lot of emotions come up. I let myself feel them all. But I also knew today could be different not because the weather would change, but because I would meet the day differently.

And that, I believe, is the secret: we don’t get to choose the weather, but we do get to choose how we walk through the storm.

So wherever you are in your journey, let yourself be surprised. Let go just a little. Trust that life has something beautiful in store. You don’t always have to carry the heavy bag. And sometimes, when you least expect it, the universe will reward you with a view that takes your breath away.

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