Southwest Treasures Newsletter- Celebrating the diversity, magic, mystery, culture and history of Arizona, Colorado, New Mexico and Utah!

July 14, 2026

Hello There Reader

The Southwest has a way of revealing things we didn't know about ourselves. This week's story comes from Arizona's Chiricahua Mountains, where a wilderness expedition changed my understanding of compassion forever.

Sometimes the people who test our patience the most are carrying burdens we'll never see.

Years ago, I joined ten teenage girls on a ten-day wilderness expedition through Arizona's breathtaking Chiricahua Mountains. The girls were participants in a wilderness therapy program called Vision Quest. The purpose was simple: step away from the distractions of daily life and look inward.

By early May, the Chiricahuas are already warming beneath a brilliant desert sky. Our first goal was a food cache twelve miles ahead. It sounded simple enough, but the combination of heavy packs, empty stomachs, and unfamiliar terrain quickly took its toll.

As one of the staff members, I expected to teach resilience and teamwork.

Instead, one twelve-year-old girl named Beth became my greatest teacher.

From the moment we hit the trail, Beth complained about everything. Her feet hurt. Her backpack was too heavy. She teased the other girls and seemed determined to make everyone's day harder—including mine. I'll admit, she wasn't my favorite.

Her first challenge was to descend down a steep trail. Everyone was required to put on helmets. Almost immediately as Beth climbed down, her helmet dropped over her eyes, causing her to lose footing. Panic and screaming ensued. Fortunately, one of the staff caught Beth before she could gain momentum.

Then came three days of complete silence. For the ritual of "Solo Time"

Each girl spent time alone beneath the stars with nothing more than a tarp, a sleeping bag, and enough food to get by. When I visited Beth on the second morning, I expected more complaints.

Instead, she quietly looked at me and said:

"You know, it's not so bad out here when I compare it to my home life."

What she shared next changed the way I have viewed difficult people ever since.

Read the full story here: ​

If you've ever wondered what's really behind someone's difficult behavior, I think Beth's story will stay with you long after you've finished reading.

Beth taught me that healing rarely begins with someone telling us what to do. It begins when we finally have enough quiet to hear ourselves.

That's one of the reasons I created Finding Calm in the Southwest- A Collection of Guides and Practices. The same landscapes that have shaped so many of my stories have also inspired simple practices for settling the nervous system, easing stress, and reconnecting with yourself—whether you're on a mountain trail or sitting at your kitchen table.

Till Next time!