While I miss Nicholai, I am enjoying our all-girl time in Missoula. I was happy today to set off on a strenuous hike to the top of Mt. Jumbo with Izzy and Sienna as my compatriots. Younger and stronger than Mr. Pickle, I felt confident in the girls' ability to make the climb without overtaxing their systems.
As we wended our way through forested trails to the summit, I experienced a progressive lightness of being. Occasional breaks of sun warmed my shoulders, the pounding hooves of unseen deer fleeing our approach reminded me that we were not alone, the rich scent of pine delighted my nostrils, and gusts of wind chilled the sweat gathering on my brow. As if all of nature were rising up singing, a sense of contented satisfaction about belonging to all this wafted over me as sure as did the sun, the pine, and the breeze.
Mt. Jumbo's bald summit afforded views of white-capped blue mountains ringing the Bitterroot Valley in every direction. Curtains of white precipitation hung in the distance to the southeast, with clear sunny skies in the north. Joy was all around and within me, from exercise-induced endorphins stimulating a cellular sense of well-being, to the nature-induced song-of-the-soul lightening my steps. I hike because I can – I have two good legs and a strong heart and lungs, and I like the natural opiates my body makes when I work hard.
My soul finds its home in nature. Under wide skies with dogs at my side, surrounded by all creation – plants, animals, air, and earth – I find peace in the face of cancer; I find satisfaction in my own life. Perhaps on the mountain top, I find my own way to God.
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