original face
on being yourself//work in process 50.
There’s a famous Zen koan in which one monk asks another, “What is your original face before even your parents were born?”
The monk didn’t mean his friend’s actual face, but his essence or true spirit. What was it before, what has it been all along?
I love this koan. It’s question I often contemplate, not because I don’t know the answer, but because remembering it brings me back to myself, time and time again. The koan is a handy measuring stick: how far from my OG self have I gotten? How much have I been pulled out, or tossed away?
It happens to all of us. There’s social media, social functions for which one must dress up and put on a face, interviews, jobs, networking traveling in unfamiliar circumstances—the ordinary performances of everyday life. The best advice I was ever given was be real in every moment. It’s the best because it’s simple, and it works every time.
But simple isn’t always easy.
Last weekend, on our annual Easter rafting trip on the San Juan River, I found my original face again. I hadn’t lost her, exactly, but we’d grown apart the last few months. It was winter, and she was bundled under layers, cooped up inside on shortened days, her usual wildness and range constricted by darkness, her creativity derailed by distractions.
There are so many distractions! We all have our own algorithm but mine goes like this: You need this oversized sweater, that facial serum, this 10-minute abs workout. You need to be a rad 50-something woman with a bestselling book, only the best skincare, all the trappings of success. And bangs!! Also, capuchin monkeys cuddling kittens. My daughter’s algorithm dishes out track strategies and college admissions advice—layer upon layer of wants and pressures that obscure our true nature.
Outside in nature, we shed these layers. Skin sees the sun again, bare feet trod the ground, we sleep in a tent without a rainfly beneath a zillion stars, constellations shifting and sliding around the canyon rim, reminding us that we are inhabitants of a tiny spinning ball in infinite space. We move with daylight, dress for the weather, leave unnecessary adornments at home. We come home to ourselves.
I didn’t find my true self right away on the river. It was chilly and overcast at the put-in; it had snowed the night before on the way to Utah, and the weather put a damper on our usual pre-trip excitement. River trip launches are always a bit hectic—there are shuttles to run, boats to inflate, and rubber to patch—so it always takes a few miles or hours, even a day, to get in the flow.
We counted wild burros and goslings. We watched the canyon walls grow taller, the layers of sandstone give way to limestone, chunky bands of geologic time diving into the river, disappearing. We basked in the silent beauty of River House, a thousand-year old indigenous dwelling notched into the rock face. We settled into river time, into ourselves.
The second day was Easter. The older girls filled plastic eggs with candy and the moms hid them in willow bushes and sage. The clouds had blown away and the river was bright and peaceful, the air warmer, springlike. That afternoon we set up camp on a small beach and walked upstream a ways on a rocky path that led to an old mine. Walking beside the river, I found my face.
She's the one who moves simply on strong legs, doesn't worry about what to wear, wakes in a tent and runs a brush through her hair, lingers over coffee with friends, sits on a boulder to write, pulls sneakers on over bare feet, feels to her bones the gift of sunlight streaming over the canyon, the wonder of a river that doesn’t give itself a second thought. That’s just a river, rivering.
Over time, our faces will change, but our inmost knowing and spirit remain steadfast. When we live from our original face, decisions become easier, we experience more clarity, ease, and flow.
Everyone’s face is different and everyone finds their faces in different places. Maybe for you it’s in a city or a museum or a deli in New Jersey. Actually place is not all that important. It’s what’s the place brings out in us. Whenever I’m in the wilderness—running mountains or rivers—I feel closest to my original face.
What is your original face before even your parents were born?
This face—my river face—feels most like me. She’s the one who’s most at home in her skin, who trusts her body completely. I’ve known her my whole life & even longer. She’s my true self.
I’m so glad she’s back.
katie xx
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May 19 // Writing in the Wild, a literary day trip in conjunction with the Santa Fe International Literary Fest. Join me from 9:30-12 noon for walking, writing, and sitting meditation on the trails of Santa Fe. $100 per person. Message me to reserve your spot today!
NEW!! June 13-16//Brave Over Perfect: A Wilderness and College Essay Writing Camp for Teen Girls, ages 15-18, High Camp Hut, Colorado. College essays are more than an onerous application process, they’re a rite of passage. Who are you and who do you want to become? This four-day mountain writing camp will teach teamwork, expedition skills, narrative self-expression, and lifelong creative practices. Come with curiosity and leave with the bones or a draft of your essay. In collaboration with veteran college essay coach Susie Rinehart, educator and advocate Kelly Burns, and wilderness leader Katie Maccaulay. $895, all inclusive. Space is limited. Register at Mountain Kids, or message me for details.
Mountain Flow Camp Sept 5-8 at High Camp Hut—This iconic alpine lodge set at 11,000 feet in the San Juan Mountains is our base for four days of writing, running, hiking, meditation, yoga, forest-bathing + (re)discovering your true nature. Shared double occupancy, cozy hut living, healthy + nourishing chef-prepared meals, fantastic company—all off-the-grid and out of range! $2600 per person all inclusive. Bring your original face. We’d love to meet her. 😊🩷🩷 Register here:
My bright spark of a book, BRIEF FLASHINGS IN THE PHENOMENAL WORLD, turned one year old this month! I’m so humbled + happy to see it moving through the world on its own energy—and yours! Thank you to all my readers and listeners who’ve supported it in the year since its publication! To celebrate its birthday, you’re invited order a signed copy from my local bookstore, Collected Works, in Santa Fe. Now more than ever we do not want to be buying books from big online chains or superstores. Call or email Collected Works to order a signed and personalized copy of Brief Flashings, to be shipped directly to your home or to a friend. It makes a great gift! Or find the audiobook on Audible, narrated by me!
Thank you for keeping it real, and for showing your character lines on your face. I'm so sick of seeing frozen Botox'ed foreheads in my feed among my peers, I'm learning to love rather than hate my 11 (the vertical lines between my brows) and feel rebellious showing it. My real face surely is equine, as my relationship to horses set me on a path of self-reliance and adventure, and I practiced homegrown equine therapy decades before therapists came up with the term and made money off it.