If Every Day Could Begin This Way

To wake up on vacation, high up in the mountains, even when there’s a thin blanket of snow on the ground, is to wake up closer to my soul than on a regular day.

Meditation was easy, as the sun dawned white over the treetops. Then four of us took to the trails and navigated our way alongside the creek, ascending the forest floor, higher and higher, the mountaintop still above us, still higher, no matter how high we climbed.

And yet, we didn’t feel insignificant or powerless. We felt on top of the world.

What if every day could start like this? We talked about it and pointed out how, yes, at home, we could go outside before we go to work, and walk along a forest floor – there are many in Michigan! We could take to the trails after dropping kids at school and get in to work later.

But we don’t.

It’s going away that takes us closer to ourselves. To our soul.

And of course, in Sedona, it’s living at soul level anyway, every day, in every step.

Last night, we had dinner among friends was the night fell in spades of cold – but it wasn’t the frightening cold of the past few weeks at home. It was navigable cold, welcome cold, breathable cold.

And the glasses of wine slid down easily, the food tasted just that much better, and then the car drive along winding mountain roads in the kind of pitch black that we never get in the city was, well, indescribable.

To sleep in an unfamiliar bed and truly sleep. To breathe in the mountain air and know the definition of easy breathing. To leave the worries and wonders of everyday life behind so that we can reconnect with who we are at the deepest – why don’t we do this all the time? Why isn’t this priority?

Why do we get so far afield in our everyday that we truly cease to see the wonderment and joy of living?

So today. We ventured out to explore the grounds where we are staying and could have climbed higher on the mountain but we got to a point where we were satisfied with the climb and were ok going down.

I asked the question aloud that I ask myself every time I hike: is it harder to go up or to go down? I always think the descent will be easier, but there are challenges, there too.

Wonderful challenges. Challenges that never, ever cause me anxiety or unrest, just pure sheer unadulterated exhilaration at being alive, at feeling my heartbeat throughout my body, a drumbeat proclaiming my beautiful existence.

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