Hello Friends!
My name is Anastasia Allison, and I’m the founder of a gear company called Kula Cloth — and I’m honored to have the opportunity to write a note to all of you today. Many years ago, a company called Gossamer Gear emailed me out of the blue and inquired about designing and producing a custom Kula Cloth. I still remember sitting at my desk in absolute shock: WAIT… GOSSAMER GEAR knows who WE ARE?! When you are a fledgling brand in the outdoor industry — and when you have looked up to companies like Gossamer Gear for most of your life, it’s a big deal to feel seen — particularly in the early days, when imposter syndrome can feel like a constant companion.
A few years ago, during COVID, I started hosting a monthly book club for Kula Cloth, and I’ve never stopped. These days, I host the Book Club through my substack, The Kula Diaries. A few months ago, I decided to include Glen’s book, take less. do more. in our book reading repertoire. Our group devoted two meetings to discussing Glen’s book — and he was even kind enough to attend one of our virtual calls to talk about the book. As Glen spoke, I don’t think there was a dry eye in the virtual Zoom house.
A few weeks after that call, I wrote a newsletter for Kula Cloth where I shared some personal thoughts about Glen’s book, and the impact that it had on me and the folks in our group. On the day that I sent out the e-mail to the over 70,000 people on my mailing list, one of the members of our book club wrote back to my message and jokingly remarked something about my ‘typo’. I quickly scrolled back through the e-mail that I had sent and I realized — in sheer horror — that I had transposed the title of Glen’s book. Instead of take less. do more.…. I had written the exact opposite… take more. do less.
After allowing myself to feel really silly for a few minutes, I had to laugh: afterall, this ‘alternative title’ of the book is ironically where I found myself nearly a decade ago — prior to starting Kula Cloth. At that time, I was unhealthily addicted to hiking and backpacking. While simultaneously trying to lessen my load (carrying 60lbs up Mt. Rainier, including 3 different weights of long underwear was not helpful), I mistakenly believed that if I could just spend more time climbing and hiking, that I wouldn’t have to deal with my inner discomfort and misery. As my backpack got lighter and lighter, I’m sad to say that my heart did not. Eventually, it didn’t matter how many miles I hiked or how much elevation that I gained — nothing was ever enough to numb the gnawing pain that I felt inside myself… a constant state of anxiety, dissatisfaction and a feeling of disappointment with who I had become. I had to accept the truth that I didn’t want to hear: no amount of backpacking could make me love myself. Eventually, after a particularly strenuous hike, I had exhausted myself to the point where I was unable to hike anymore — I could barely get out of bed for over a month. As I carried around this oppressive weight in my heart, I had lost the thing that I thought would ‘fix’ me. A question bubbled up during that difficult time: Who am I without hiking? If I am not walking in the wilderness… What is left in that place?
I have carried some ridiculous and unnecessary things into the backcountry: a fold up ‘kitchen sink’, an entire half dozen eggs, and once I carried multiple pairs of pants on the same trip, ‘just in case’. But as I look back at those trips, I’ve realized — with compassion — that the heaviest thing I ever carried was not a non-titanium spork. Instead, it was the emptiness that I felt inside.
For most of my life, I clung tightly to the fears that defined me, but now I realized that it was time to let them go. For me, it started as a deep feeling of gratitude for life itself — the acknowledgement that this day included me. As I walked both mountain trails and the trail of life, I learned to let go of the physical items that I thought I needed… and the fears that were weighing me down. Slowly, I began to feel that familiar zest for life stirring again. Indeed, the less that I carried with me, the more I could do. It was in this place of gratitude that the seed for Kula Cloth started to bloom.
When I first started mountaineering I believed that climbing peaks would ‘complete’ some missing piece of who I was. But now… with a newfound sense of lightness in my feet … I knew that wasn’t true … because I had never needed ‘to be fixed’ at all. My sense of awe and wonder for wild places now comes from a place of appreciation — not from a sense of needing to ‘conquer’ anything or ‘check off an objective.’ When I sit outside at sunset and watch the alpenglow melting across the North Cascades, I can see something else … something I didn’t notice before: a sense of wholeness and a universal love that connects each and every one of us.
I’ll end with a tiny poem that I wrote, which hopefully helps to capture the essence of what we are ‘looking for’ when we venture outside. Friends, please remember that the beautiful world out there is not independent of you … instead, it is a reflection of who you truly are! I am sending you all so much love, joy and peace on your own unique trail through life.
Anastasia Allison is the founder of Kula Cloth. In addition to running a burgeoning outdoor gear company, Anastasia is a prolific and thoughtful writer, talented musician (check out Musical Mountaineers), a prodigious writer of personal notes, and a creator of community. You can catch more of her talented writing at The Kula Diaries.
