uphill and down

there might be nothing better than to go to bed after a day of complete physical exhaustion. that pure physical fatigue, full of sore muscles and dirt, and a free mind. that when-you-close-your-eyes-for-a-second-you-fall-asleep kind of tired. that was last night and my sleep was so sweet.

yesterday we hiked up a volcano.  it was about 5 km straight up to 9000 ft elevation and a few km around the rim, then 5 km back down.  it was totally worth it and beautiful.

part of the group at the end

we left our shady tea field home and drove down into the great rift valley.  which is hard to describe and hard to see in pictures- but is vast and wide and expansive and humbling.

the great rift valley

the hike was hard.  hot afternoon sun, no shade, slippery sand and straight up in thin air.  i wished i could have climbed up backwards because the view behind us was spectacular and ahead, foreboding.  but this is why i love hiking.  you work, and push, and sometimes you want to give up and some times your legs burn, but each step you are closer and when you turn around you see how far you've come.  it's again, like life.  and it speaks to the importance of the 30,000 foot view.  a lot of times we are stuck in our feet. we are looking down at the dirt, we are feeling our pain, we are short of breath and thirsty, we are wanting to be anywhere but where we are at that moment. we don't see much except our feet slipping around stones and we forget. we forget where we are going, or where we've been.  we forget why and all we think is how.  how will we get on? how will we finish? how will this end?  will it be worth it?

but what we learn in that uphill climb, achy and straight up and sweaty, we learn endurance.  we learn to withstand hardship and stress.  sometimes we pause and drink water and breath heavy and then we turn around.

half way up

and then we see the view.  if we can stop for a moment of stillness, and pull our eyes from the trail, we are given the gift of perspective- we are given the 30,000 foot view.   beauty along the way.  our place in the universe. we see that our moments may hurt but they aren't bad- they are part of us- part of who we are becoming- part of the process- our evolution.

then there is the top. the summit.  the rim of the volcano. 

tineshi and moses, at the top

and some seasons in life are this- they are reached and appreciated and restful and spectacular. but you can only be there for a little while- life is never lived on the rim, at the peak.  it just isn't.

so we descend into another season of life- which often feels like reflection. on the way down, i'm wanting to watch the view, but if i don't look down, i'll slide.  i need to be present in the down hill- i need to be with my feet.  i want to skip and run the whole time, but there are steep parts that require hands and feet and eyes.  i remember the way up and thank God it's over.  i remember the top, and that i was ready to leave it.  reaching the bottom is another type of peak- it's returning- it's reality- it's restful in a new way.

we bumped along roads, through lots of traffic, and drove back through that great rift valley at sun set.  and even with an altitude migraine- it spoke to my heart. because it probably would for anyone- but for me it spoke of beginnings. 

rift valley at sunset