State Parks Summer Tour (Part 1)

I returned home at the end of May from my life-changing, world-expanding Southwestern tour believing that my wanderlust was tamed...until next summer, at least. Once I readjusted to Eastern Standard Time and caught up at work, however, I was more than ready to fly off again, this time to visit family at my annual vacation spot near Orlando. When I got home from Florida, I could no longer deny the facts: I was bored with my everyday life, drowning in ennui, desperate for new adventures and changes in scenery. 

So, what to do when you've consumed your personal leave time at work and spent too much money in too little time? Explore your own backyard. After all, I live in Western New York, which is home to arguably some of the most beautiful attractions in the U.S., including Niagara Falls (the American side), the Adirondacks, the Finger Lakes, and one of this summer's must-see spots, Letchworth State Park.

Letchworth State Park

Since I'd just seen the Grand Canyon of the West a month earlier, I figured this summer wouldn't be complete without also seeing the Grand Canyon of the East, which is much closer to home and no less impressive. Letchworth, located in Castile, is understandably the biggest touring draw for Wyoming County. Right in the midst of farm country (more cows than people!) is this little slice of heaven, containing three waterfalls (Upper, Middle, and Lower) and a long paved pathway that offers several miles of hiking with unbelievable views. 

I arrived early enough in the morning that it was still quiet and undisturbed, as if I had the entire park and its treasures to myself. By the time I unpacked my bagged lunch at a shaded picnic table a few hours later, the park was packed with families, police cars were swarming the premises, and a wedding was underway near the Glen Iris Inn, but I cherished my peaceful hike from the Middle to Upper Falls.

Stony Brook State Park

My first thought, when I think of Stony Brook State Park, unfortunately, is how MapQuest directed me to turn off the main drag, led me to the end of a dirt road, somewhere in or near Dansville, and left me there, forcing me, in utter panic, to Google Map my way back to Route 36, Route 390, and the correct exit. (Thank God for smartphones!)

That's unfortunate because Stony Brook was worth the confusion and frustration, especially for its stone walkways curving around multiple waterfalls and wading pools. There were only three hiking trails, including the stone-stepped one, so I felt like I was able to see all that the park had to offer - which was quite a lot - in one afternoon.

Life Overhaul

 "Out with the old and in with the new..."

In May, en route to an escorted tour of the Grand Canyon, I briefly visited the mystical town of Sedona and, on a whim, a psychic (Arizona Adventures: Sedona Edition). She gently encouraged me to reevaluate my life and avoid personal stagnation, saying I needed a change of scenery and would benefit from solo traveling adventures.

In the months since that psychic reading, I've adopted her advice, "Out with the old and in with the new," as my new life motto. That stroll from the sidewalk into the crystal shop was literally life-changing. Change is often dreaded and feared by most people, myself included, but I realized I was ready for it. What I've learned is that change will happen whether I embrace it or resist it. It's as inevitable - and sometimes twice as scary - as death. But it's often beneficial; it's only my fear of it that makes it seem ominous. 

 

In the first seven months of this year, I've whole-heartedly embraced change. I've done so many things, some small, some monumental, that I wouldn't have done years ago. I've renovated and redecorated my apartment for the first time since moving in six years ago. I boarded an airplane and flew somewhere other than Florida, visiting Arizona (and begun seriously considering someday moving there), Utah, and Nevada, and came home not only alive but better, worldlier. I bought a new bed and mattress, the first of my adult life (both long overdue), and oversaw a renovation and redecoration of my office at work. I've politely but firmly cut off contact with a few people (namely exes) who tied me to the past and prevented me from moving forward into the future. I've hiked in beautiful local parks that I never knew existed until I sought them out this summer. And last Sunday, after years of painful contemplation, I quit the church I'd attended (but chose not to join) for the past six years. 

As I wrote in January 2014, Good for the Soul, Christianity and church had become sources of conflict for me. I began questioning what I'd once blindly believed. Emotional and spiritual growth are complementary forces. As I became more compassionate, accepting, and open-minded, so did my beliefs.The result: I felt like a round, liberal peg trying to squeeze myself into a restrictive, conservative, square, Baptist hole. I felt like an actress playing a role every Sunday. But it wasn't a cut-and-dried decision. While I enjoyed socializing with the congregation members, I didn't enjoy hearing anti-gay and anti-Muslim sermons from the pulpit. 

At first, I was okay with the status quo of not joining but still attending the church. It seemed preferable to leaving. Besides, I feared the potentially-contentious conversation I knew I needed to have with the pastor and his wife before leaving. (Of course it would have been easier to slip out the back door, ignore the inevitable text messages questioning my absence, and never return, but my integrity wouldn't let me.) 

But two Sundays before I left, the truth (as I knew it) hit me like a sledgehammer, precisely when the pastor was praying against legalized gay marriage, and I knew I could no longer ignore it. I'm not opposed to gay marriage; in fact, I support equality for all genders, races, cultures, sexual orientations, and ethnic groups. So there I was, not praying against gay marriage, feeling like a total hypocrite for being in that building and listening to a prayer that I couldn't amen. 

I started pondering my entire life up to that point, religious and otherwise, right there at church. I asked myself if I was living the way I wanted to live, doing what I wanted to do, or just going through the motions out of guilt, habit, and obligation. (Nothing fosters guilt like religion. As Tori Amos, a preacher's daughter who knows a thing or two about Christianity, sang in "Crucify," "Got enough guilt to start my own religion...") Did I attend church because I wanted to or because it was what I'd done nearly every Sunday of my adult life? I've stuck with old patterns that no longer served me or improved my life because fear of change kept me bound to them. I feared the consequences that change might bring.

But you know what I've found? There isn't one single change I've made this year that hasn't made my life better. In fact, when reflecting on the effects of each change, I've asked myself why I waited so long. I've yet to find a satisfying answer.