1. You cannot bestow a name upon yourself, it must be given to you.
2. You have the right to refuse proposed names until you feel a suitable one has been conjured up (but be careful, people will still call you what they wish).

Sure, people in town may give you looks when you give your name as Zoran The Magnificent at a restaurant, but they will also fear you for being different from them (which everyone knows translates into respect). You are already likely smelling of the outdoors (aka filth) or wearing only your underwear (my outfit of choice when going out in town), so what’s a name on top of all that? ”

Here’s Mac’s picture of the approach to the Sierras:

And here is Michael’s:

So Michael’s trail name is Physsie. I think it’s related to his having been a physics major at Texas Tech, which is odd given all the defining characteristics I could think of about him. But it suits him. He’s the youngest person (more or less) on the trail. There’s something lighthearted and playful about it and that makes me smile, thinking of Michael that way. I always said he was like Huck Finn and Peter Pan. Messy and didn’t want to grow up. And my happiest kid, in a carefree sort of way. He certainly looks happy now.

I love that picture. As scared as I am, it kind of makes my heart sing. Its funny what you can (and have to) get use to, as a parent. A year ago, it would have freaked me out to see him hitch hiking, let alone hanging on a mountain. It’s crazy when you think how much we grow as people as our kids grow. I don’t think I expected that. Not in the “oh, now I know how to make a great lunchbox” sort of way. But in a more spiritual, centered, find-your-inner calm sort of way. That’s got to be good for us, right?

My friend Julia is feeling all the emotional wallop of her first child graduating from high school and heading off to college. I said to her this morning, “You are right in the vortex of a huge mom moment, my friend. I use to say, upon reflection, there have been four bigger-than-life-moments so far: she was born, she rode a bus to school, she drove out of the driveway alone, and she said goodbye on a college campus. All the others paled in comparison. Go easy on yourself and know that all will be ok.”

When you have that panicked gut-tugging emotion that come when your child is about to do something that scares you–either because its scary or because its changing what you understand about yourself and who you are in that child’s world–there’s a kind of tightening that starts at the back of your insides and winds its way up through your stomach to your chest, your heart and even your lungs, and you face that moment of either collapsing from it or breathing. Breathing is the only real option, but the ability to choose it comes from one of two places, I think. Intellect, for sure. But I think it comes from faith, from love, too. A kind of supernatural blanket that lays on top of your churning panic and says “breathe. go easy. let it go and know that all will be OK.” And you do.

Julia posted this lovely video this morning. I have no idea whose video it is, so I can’t give proper credit other than to the blogger who first posted it, http://theunstoppablemother.com/  It hit me as so perfect. It’s not every day you face mountain climbing. Some days its just watching them dash out the door, grabbing a snack, racing to work, a date, or some unknown activity that you can only pray is good for them. And all the while, that ability to breathe, stand tall, lift your head and say, “its all good” just grows stronger and more firmly rooted in us.

This must be what they mean about reinventing yourself. I’m game. I think.

You can follow Michael on Instagram at Physsie_Hikes. Thanks for reading along. And a million thanks to the person who took that photo of Mike and his friend Rachel on Mount Whitney. It’s amazing.