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Recently I hiked a trail in Estes Park; a park within the much larger Rocky Mountain National Park.  Simply put, it was the most beautiful hike I’ve ever experienced.  I spent a lot of time just yelling at the mountains from atop vistas, which is odd.  It’s just my go to response when I’m generally overwhelmed with amazement at the beauty of a moment.  I think the common response is to be rendered speechless.  However one responds, it comes from a place of acknowledgement – a humble nod to the reminder that we are so very very small.

These views are traced by poets and song writers.  They are the subject of books.  Here each peak becomes its own character and we feel, in an immense wave of relief, all of our crushing self-importance dissolve into the dirt. Here, in the vast identity that is Nature we come to terms with the limitations of our knowledge and control.  We shake hands with it, make peace with it and ask for its friendship, but we forget.  As soon as we descend the mountain, as soon as we answer the call and enter back into the clock work of our existence, where we are needed, where we are important, the importance of what we just witnessed seems a mirage. Yet, it calls out to us in faint whispers and we return, begging Nature to remind us of the big picture and where we stand in the frame.