Before I settled into camp at Ruby Lake, the night of catastrophizing where I became determined to bring appreciation rather than fearful anxiety to what could have been my last night alive, I sat near the lake and prayed, is this the right spot for me to stay tonight?

The lull of the late afternoon ascended as the sun descended behind the craggy peaks of Ruby Lake. The stillness of water, save the champagne like glistening of sunlight dancing across the small expanse, sedated the day's activities. Birds flitted here and thereto find their last nuggets of seeds and bugs for their evening nourishment. The dragonflies, jokering around in two- and threesomes, swerved in and around me at water's edge, occasionally hovering briefly at eye level, as rainbow glistening wings reflected splashes of sun rays. A chipmunk came next to me, perching on a rock overlooking the lake while munching on a pine cone.

Paying me no never mind, I wondered if it had the same awe I did this time of day? Did it choose this specific spot for the view at sunset? Or was it just a convenient relatively flat place where which to eat dinner?

As I mentioned in the previous blog post, the first few days on the trail I experienced an inordinate amount of fear and anxiety, particularly in the evenings and throughout the night. The fear was so fierce that I wasn't able to enjoy any of my time. I was reeling in a flood of anxiousness and reactivity. My desperation lead to exhaustion night after night.

One night in particular my catastrophizing mind thoroughly convinced me that I was doomed--that this would be my last night alive. (This was before I worked with the Just Five Breaths practice.)  I was certain that I would become the meal of a wild animal!