Everything I’m reading about spiritual growth seems to be reflected in my immediate experience, just as the still lake reflects the ridgeline down into a watery mirror. All I have to do is be still…and the world becomes clear.
Crossing a 16,000 foot pass, the rain turns to snow…and then to hail. We descend the far side and slosh through mud into a boggy campsite.
I am awed by the weather—its power to shape both earth and man. It’s transitory (even if uncomfortable), so I accept the opportunity to experience the world in this form. In cities we shelter ourselves so easily from discomfort, but in the wilderness, we are compelled to experience nature more fully—the cold, the dark, the damp, all shockingly strong. I am vibrantly alive. Wet, cold, muddy, and somehow still relishing the forces of nature.
