Why do we like to climb to the top? The mountain vistas near Palm Springs seem to
call me more dramatically than the canyons whenever I am hiking.
I feel more energized, more enthusiastic,
more alive.
Is it because the rise in altitude creates a rise in expectation
that something is coming? That something
will be revealed, as in these trails of the San Jacinto mountain peak? This
is the same sensation for me that anticipates the finishing of a painting, of
the first hearing of the voice of a new drum.
Perhaps it is because I can gain a perspective of the whole—see
how the parts fit together—like here in the painted canyons of the Mecca Hills. I think this is what Chip Kidd is
referring to when he talks about the great value of Google Earth is that it
lends perspective to how small we are.
Certainly climbing to the top of a mountain is also
just about the perseverance of getting there.
Seeing these boots that were only two weeks ago a crisp new birthday
present in a tissue-lined box.
Being atop a mountain does encourage special moments. Sitting in meditation with the wind.
Finding a sacred space.
Discovering a sign to ponder left by others.
Sometimes the most remarkable part of getting up is trying
to figure out how to get down.
I think that like all
moments that linger in the memory long after the time has passed, climbing to a
mountain vista is an opportunity to feel in awe of the world.
