Often in my wanderings, the feeling of reaching the summit and enjoying the view is definitely a "high". It gives one a feeling of achieving a goal of conquest. But in retrospect, as I observe the trees on the side of the mountain, the small details such as the patterns of snow, the almost lazy way the mist floats across the morning sky I realize my perspective is wrong. Instead of feeling like I've conquered the mountain, I feel my soul surrender to all the exquisite beauty surrounding me, washing over me, healing me in ways far too subtle to understand. In the end, it isn't about conquering the wilderness but accepting my role and it accepting me....points of light.
