The wind whispered, the trees danced and the snow smiled. Being out in the wilderness I am reminded that I come from the wilderness. My heart was born here, my body made from the same elements. My soul longs to return to the wilderness, to dance with the trees and share the secrets of the wind. The Earth always invites me back, and when I return it seems she is overjoyed to have me. It’s here I am reminded of the importance of the soul, and how to touch it, and why that is so critical.

I don’t think that many can understand why I enjoy the torture of the mountains. It’s probably because, for me, it’s not torture. It’s a return home. It’s exactly how I see heaven. Quiet, filled with love and acceptance. Somewhere I can be myself with out judgement or fear of rejection. I pay a price to feel that way, sometimes that price hurts, but it’s always worth it. When my lungs burn, I can feel the love of the cool air. When my heart pounds in my ears, it drowns out the world around me and the distracting thoughts so I can hear the whispers of the wind. When my muscles ache and beg for me to stop, I know that the sweet calming of natures peace and love are almost ready to embrace me. It’s here I remember who I am, where I came from and where I hope to get to. It’s here I don’t have to wait for heaven.

I love the mountains. They are gentle, serious, kind, unforgiving, beautiful and daunting forces that demand humility and expect the pilgrim to believe. Not in the traditions of others but to believe in the mountain, in the power of nature and the earth. There is power here, and it is raw. To be able to tap into that is one of the greatest things I have discovered in this life. It’s here I have found my God. It’s here I am visited by my brother. It’s here I fill my cup in hopes of returning home to fill the cups of others.

Rene Daumal said, “You cannot stay on the summit forever; you have to come down again. So why bother in the first place? Just this: What is above knows what is below, but what is below does not know what is above. One climbs, one sees. One descends, one sees no longer, but one has seen. There is an art of conducting oneself in the lower regions by the memory of what one saw higher up. When one can no longer see, one can at least still know.”

I have been to the mountain top, but not all the tops. I have seen, but still have a world to discover. I have climbed, and descended. I hope to one day be able to conduct myself as one who knows what I know and who has seen what I have seen. Till I master that lesson, I will continue to climb.