An Uphill Downhill

Given the opportunity to hike solo, I chose a ridge hike overlooking the Pacific, high above sea level I would have sweeping views of the vast ocean and the lush, green vegetation. But first, I would have to climb, when I pulled up to the trail a hill greeted me, and like many things in life, I had the experience to know the hill was going to be a challenge, and it was, and I was sweaty and winded and working hard by the top. I kep` nt meandering on the trail, up through switchbacks, overlooking waterfalls, amazed at the mix of tropical plants with more familiar vegetation. Oh, the views were gorgeous, and I loved how small, how very small indeed I felt. I felt small compared to both the enormity and duration of the forest. Feeling small helps me right size my life, yes, important specifically to certain humans who love me, and for my contributions to the world, but also small in comparison to the entirety of the natural world.

As I began my descent, I found myself remembering that I thought the descent would be so simple, effortless even. It was not. Resistance was necessary to prevent injury from coming down too fast, and though I was not winded from the effort, my thighs and glutes burned. Slow descent was necessary and it did provide the opportunity to take in the beautiful view and feel peaceful.

So it is with life, sometimes we find ourselves striving uphill for a long time exerting much effort to make it to a destination, and then realize either that it was not as expected or simply that we could not remain in that space forever. The untangling of the effort, the descent, happens slowly and with care, and often with a great view.