Who Am I Off the Mountain

I came down from the mountain today and I couldn’t figure out who I was. I thought maybe I was a shadow but that requires something to block the light. I thought I was a ghost but that Implies there was once something there. Maybe a shell. Old and forgotten where someone use to live. A hole means there was space around it. What am I? I walked up to the bottom of that mountain filled. I had excitement. I had fear. I had something to prove. I had worries about what was ahead and I had worries of what I left behind. I had plans. I had an agenda. My agenda on the mountain was to survive. But the agenda I left at home was too full to count. And then I took that first step and then I took another. The heaviness of the worries I left at home faded beneath the heaviness of my pack. The uncertainty of what to do next was answered by a clearly marked white blaze. I had everything with me and in me to survive that moment and then the next. I couldn’t afford the time or energy to contemplate politics. I didn’t have space to entertain the fear of the future. I just walked. I just breathed. Looking around and being surrounded by sophisticated beauty that I or no one could have recreated. Nothing to fix there. Nothing to debate. Just moment after moment to live. All day long walking and breathing. I didn’t have to come to some majestic rock to notice the beauty it was everywhere I turned. And I noticed it because my eyes were wide open. I could smell. I could touch. Every single step was beautiful. And I lived completely in every one of those moments. Truly alive. The big shock came when I put my pack down and walked off the trail. My first idea was to say it was back to reality. But I want to reject that. It was immensely uncomfortable to not know what or who I am off that mountain but I’m going to live with that unease for a moment and stay open to mountains and adventures all around me everyday.