While new-age cliché has reinforced the idea that life is a journey, that to know yourself takes time, I am of the belief that life is a quick and sudden event, and enlightenment of oneself is triggered through a singular occasion. After years and years of searching, time spent developing my personhood, days wrestling with my own fate, it just happened. You don’t expect it, and you won’t see it coming either. But for some it’s always there, lurking around the corner, waiting for the darkness and for your back to be turned. For others, it never happens. For those unlucky masses who are unfortunate enough to never feel God’s hand are those who will stay the same from birth to death. And what a perfect metaphor, the true definition of “it”: a divine touch, a soul-changing, perspective shifting intervention.
And so even though people say the ocean is infinite, I only feel infinite in the mountains, where everyone knows for certain that the range ends somewhere, that the peak falls back down into the valley. So while others stare into the indefinite horizon at sea, I gaze into the city lights below me, the ones illuminating the place where some say the mountains end, but I know that they never end. And the lights stare back at me.
I live for the feeling of being purely played by gravity and snow. My life means something when I’m lost in the trees, when my skis are touching the ground but my body is in the heavens above. The first time I saw the Rockies my heart grew. My soul set aflame and my spirit rejoiced in a contentment I had never yet felt. And with my first entrance into that frozen forest I realized that this was the place where I wanted to die.