Welcome back to Good Life, a newsletter focused on navigating our modern culture and maintaining our sanity along the way. This week, we’re diving into the significance of standing alone, even if it comes at a personal cost.
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Last week, my husband and I went elk hunting in Idaho. There’s so much to unpack from a trip like that, and I’ll likely touch on it in upcoming newsletters. But there was one insight that struck me right away during our first outing as we climbed up the trail.
This was just our second hunting trip in Idaho, and, admittedly, we were still pretty unfamiliar with the terrain, so we had a guide with us. My husband made a valid point: there’s no need to get lost in the forest just to make a statement, especially when our four daughters are waiting for our safe return.
If you’ve been hunting, you know how crucial it is to arrive at your spot before dawn, when the animals start to stir. The goal is to blend in with nature, allowing the animals to feel secure enough to reveal themselves. As my husband and I perched on a ridge scanning for elk, I was struck by how the pine trees clustered together. There were so many on the opposite ridge, it looked like their seeds had perfectly covered the ground. It resembled a miniature forest.
However, right in the middle of this dense patch was a lone tree standing by itself. I knew I was supposed to be on the lookout for elk. By now, the sun had risen over the ridge behind us, highlighting the area where we expected the elk to appear. When sunlight hits them, they glimmer like tiny gold flecks against all that green. But instead of focusing, I found myself captivated by that solitary tree. Sometimes, I can’t help but feel like that lonely tree.
Politics can sometimes feel like a team sport. You align yourself with a particular side, forming bonds with those who share your views. It can be beneficial, especially during tough times when being honest means swimming upstream. But, it can also be a very isolating experience that, if you’re not strong enough, can lead to doubts about your own perspective.
I’ve been thinking particularly about the immigration debate and the shifts we’ve seen in discourse around it. Even just two years ago, discussing the challenges of legal immigration within my perspective was met with backlash from my side. Many argued that our nation needs immigrants, and community changes are secondary to economic benefits. This notion has always frustrated me because I believe preserving a shared heritage should guide policy decisions.
Sometimes it feels like I’m the lone voice who sees both the risks and opportunities of various policy choices. Like that tree, I often stand alone, feeling the weight of the forest’s gaze. I’ve never backed down from a cause that I believe is fair. Once I form an opinion, it’s hard for me to change it. This trait, I think, should be embraced by more people, although it does carry a price. Misunderstanding and criticism can amplify your feelings of isolation, and it takes courage to endure that storm until others come to stand beside you.
Recently, Vice President JD Vance has openly addressed the misuse of specialty visas, and now my comment section is buzzing with calls for these programs to come to an end. In this case, I’m no longer that lonely tree.
Just as I was absorbed in these thoughts, a flicker of gold caught my eye through the trees. We all turned our attention, hopeful that it was an elk. Instead, it turned out to be a tree stump illuminated by the rising sun.
“Hunting can feel a lot like chasing ghosts,” our guide quipped. We shared a soft laugh, appreciating the truth in his observation before returning to our contemplative silence.
Almost immediately, I sought out that lonely tree again. I hadn’t completely processed my thoughts and craved more time to delve into them. That’s the beauty of hunting; you can remain in one spot for hours, waiting for something to present itself. It offers a chance to reflect on life and consider future paths. In today’s fast-paced world, those moments of introspection are rare, which is why I treasure them.
Ironically, I found that being on the ridge was one of the few places where I could get cell service. It was just strong enough for sporadic messages, though not enough to respond. Almost humorously, I received an email from a reader who just read my latest newsletter about absentee grandparents. The preview loaded partially, starting with “Great Column,” which made me smile, so I tucked my phone away. Those who understand truly do; others often react with anger, exposing their own insecurities.
I reflected on this experience as yet another reminder of being that lonely tree. I’ve accepted my place there, cherishing the solitude. It reaffirms that it’s okay to be the only one who notices certain truths. This period of loneliness won’t last forever. Eventually, more people will come to recognize what’s unfolding and stand alongside me. I made a mental note to discuss this with our daughters when I return. I hope to inspire them to stand that ground—their own ground—between opposing sides. Not just as mediators, but as those strong enough to withstand the elements and advocate for what’s right, even if it means standing alone.
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