Colorado, 2006-2009

It’s dark. Menacing clouds churn overhead. Small hailstones crunch under my feet as I hike across the wet tundra to the summit of a nearby peak. Unrelenting cold wind has replaced the afternoon warmth. I am in the middle of the wilderness—trekking in the wake of a violent display of lightning and thunder. But I can think of nothing except what might come next. It’s summer in the Rocky Mountains, and I’ve done this a hundred times before.

As I climb higher, a mix of nervousness and adrenaline is feeding a familiar anticipation. I find solace in the echoing thunder as it fades into the distant mountains.  Soon, the storm has passed and calm returns to the land. The breaking clouds overhead stir my expectations. I finally reach a chosen high point overlooking the mountains, and almost simultaneously let out an involuntary “Wow”.  I am overwhelmed; humbled, even, by the expanse of beauty that surrounds me. Then the light comes.

The alpine world around me snaps to life in a brilliant play of light and shadow. I study the unpredictable dance of light illumination across the near world—it’s a pull between dark and light that is ominous but playful. I am part of a wild and timeless cycle that has existed for as long as these mountains began. This place, the grand stage, is completely oblivious to my presence. My imagination soars at each eyeful of the endless landscape. I’ve never felt more alive. Clarity and renewal replace all my cares and worries. I watch each act until the shadows grow long.

The impact of my experience is immeasurable … it won’t be completely understood until later, when I return to the reality of my daily life. There, encompassed in a complex world, I remember the light that fell upon the open land—the light reaches the quiet places of my soul. The light calls me to return.

Again and again.