into the channel
the raw beauty of the islands, the call of wild places, and the depths and medicine of grief
I recently journeyed to the Channel Islands, one of the most remote national parks in the U.S.-a trip taken by myself and my partner and closest companion, Zac - to get a little nearer to ourselves and take a little space from the dusty chaos of L.A.
It also felt like an appropriate time to go, as so many beautiful parts of this country have been threatened by 🍊. It was an absolute gift to be in this raw environment, home to the clever island foxes, ravens, humpbacks, dolphins, and island scrub jays. While hiking the trails, we met many native herbs - prickly pear (nopale), white horehound, toyon, lemonade berry, sagebrush, and island morning glories. Our base camp was nestled in a grove of invasive eucalyptus trees - problematic, highly flammable, yet beautiful.
This trip helped me realize that after four years, I actually feel like I’ve met a good amount of the native plants of SoCal and am beginning to have an understanding of them. The chaparral region they grow in was so unfamiliar to me when I first moved here from the Northeast - and now the signatures of the plants, their fragrant scents, and their names (though I’d love to learn more of the native Chumash names) are all more recognizable to me.
We’ve even begun to work with some of these plants for @theherbalpixie - when sourcing feels responsible and right - because local medicine is, and will always be, the people’s medicine.
We camped on Scorpion Cove, and while there were no sightings of scorpions (just one tiny snake), we were - and continue to be -under the strong pull of Scorpio season. The portal of Scorpio’s dark depths was definitely evident. These parks, with their sensitive habitats, command us to practice “Leave No Trace,” to be cautious and mindful in how we interact with the world around us.
It certainly sang of ancient energy, and we learned that the oldest known human bones discovered to date in the U.S. were found on these islands. The spooky vibes were felt at night - but in a calm way. Those few days off-grid, off-service were necessary. It truly felt like a cellular reset, albeit a challenging one. Camping is a difficult feat - especially when you haven’t done it in some time. But I will say one thing - those are life skills that feel imperative to have, given the state of the world. Knowing how to forage, cook, and live with the bare minimum - primitive essentials - feels important. Not my ideal day-to-day, but I’m certainly happy I tapped back into that part of myself.
And that wasn’t the only thing I tapped back into. I also tapped, more fully, into my grief.
There was a cypress grove where we found relief from the sun, on an eight-mile hike that would’ve taken us out to a cove. I found myself quickly overheating. After living for four years in a desert ecosystem in L.A., I feel as if my body’s tolerance to heat has actually lowered somehow - and I crave cool, darker environments for counterbalance.
In that grove, we stared out over 200-foot vertical drops into the ocean, sat in the shade, and I wept. It’s been heavy lately - life, my desires, a genuine lack of clarity I’ve alluded to on here but haven’t fully explained. Nor will I, at this time. It’s been interesting, because I’ve felt the truth of multiple timelines existing- everything, everywhere, all at once - genuinely and truly. What path do we go down? What is the right thing to do? Consulting the heart has always been the answer - but what if her answers are muddy, unclear, in the fog?
Past versions of myself would find those answers in escapes to nature, where the incessant chatter of other people’s brains and ideas isn’t so prevalent. But when you’re only out there for a few days, and you’ve been in the wild of the city for too long- well, the cleansing takes a bit longer.
No clear answers were had in that cypress grove, but what was found was release. An offering to the land of the pain I was holding - and, to be honest, the pain I’ve caused. We are so fast to point fingers at others when what’s really beckoning to be reckoned with is what we have done to harm ourselves and others.
Where have we withheld? Where have we been messy? Where have we jumbled ourselves up? What truths are we withholding from ourselves out of comfort or fear?
So in an effort to rewild myself - because at my core, I am a wild, free, and deliberate woman - I start there. With the honest expression that, try as I might, my integrity has not been as intact as I’d care to admit these last few months. And now, I’m doing my due diligence to clarify that.
The Channel Islands are built upon the Santa Barbara Channel - a deep trench in the ocean that sinks farther than the Grand Canyon underwater. There are secrets in those depths - that mirror our deepest griefs and joys within the trenches of our psyche. And as we enter the winter months, I remember that when we decide to face that darkness, it’s scary… but after a while, our vision assimilates, and somehow, we begin to see.
With love always,
Sophia
