Love, light and healing peace to all souls who have ventured here to see what this "Hiking Poet" has written for February of 2019.

Those who know me and have spent time around me, know that I am not a fan of odd numbered years or the month of February.  The reasons are many and the time is short, and as such, I will not rant on the need to cancel this month from calendars...

Recently, a cousin of mine passed on and entered the "Great Unknown".  I am not here looking for sympathy or cheer, but rather to reflect on death and passing on.  In truth, no tears fell from my eyes and no daggers struck my heart.  I did not feel sadness or grief.  Am I a monster?  I don't think so.  Some relationships, even when they are bound with similar blood, just don't take hold of the soul.  So many of us fail to form connections (and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that) with family members.  Souls recognize each other by the way that they feel, and not by the blood which courses in veins.  This was the case for me.

As my dry tear ducts sat and listened to the words over phone of her death, my mind immediately began to once again, reflect, on my own life.  She was 37 years old.  Shy of her 38th birthday by less than 5 months.  Life was cut short by disease and a failing body.  Death makes me pause no matter the age of the human vessel.  It should cause reflection in us all.  As I lay in bed that Monday night listening to what I remember her voice sounding like, I drifted off to sleep, and as usual, nightmares.

Waking the next morning, I felt the heaviness I feel when the car door shuts after a hiking adventure.  I feel the black cloud tightening its grip around my heart and the sadness forcing its way into my mind.  I've felt this feeling many, many times before.  I know what it is, and what it is not.  I do not need a lab coat wearing figure to tell me.  Depression.  

I've never been formally diagnosed, but I have done the research.  I've taken the diagnostic readings, tests and lengthy surveys about thoughts, moods and feelings.  There is no other answer.  I'm sure there are folks reading this saying, "But there are medications out that can help you treat this.  Things you can take to alleviate the crevasses and darkness."  Truth is, I don't want to, and I won't.

My boots and my camera provide me the solace I need.  My boots carry me to lofty peaks and hidden trails that my shutter captures and then writes to memory, images that bring comfort.  Therapy can be found out there.  It does not have to come in a bottle from a Kaiser Pharmacist.  It comes from inward reflection and knowing what the soul needs to do to heal.  It's that voice in us all that not many listen to.  The voice which screams to do what you love because work will always be there.

As I poured myself a cup of steaming and aromatic Jasmine tea, I explained to my daughters what happened to my cousin.  They looked inquisitively at me and asked question after question.  Some I could answer, others I could not, and others, Alexa provided some assistance with.  Not once did a tear fall.  Not once did my voice quiver.  Not that I am afraid to cry in front on them, but because of that dark cloud hanging over my head.  

Lunches made for each of us, we hopped into my Subaru Forester and picked up their friend from down the street.  The whole time my mind was racing.  "I'm 40.  I'm aging.  I haven't seen everything I want to see.  I have a massive amount of work to do today.  I really don't want to meet with my construction team today to go over the mundane and irritating things that come along with $6.0 million construction projects."

All three doors closed almost simultaneously.  I sat there for a brief second as Journeys "Don't Stop Believing" played on the speakers.  I smiled.  I turned the car home and couldn't get there fast enough.

Quickly throwing my backpack together and getting out of my gray suit, I donned my base layer silk shirt, a comfy layer over that, pulled on my trusty Prana pants and headed for the garage again.  Ice ax: Check.  Crampons:  Check.  Trekking Poles:  Check.  Snacks: Check.  

The car was loaded, HR knew I wouldn't be in today, and I was off.  The black cloud today was just too much, but the mountains sing so sweetly to my ears, and like John Muir, I went.

90 minutes later I am staring at the gear in my trunk as I am strapping on my knee high gaiters.  Emerald Bay in Lake Tahoe is directly behind me.  Maggie's Peaks were facing me and I was determined to climb them.

The first quarter mile of the trail carries you through the Bayview Campground; a bustling place in the summer months, now a quiet place covered in winters snowy blanket.  I reached the trailhead a little out of breath from the post holing done to get back there.  No other soul followed me.  I was alone.  I heard no one or nothing except the wind.  I was happy.  No traces of that cloud remained.

Beginning the climb up to Maggie's Peak North, I post-holed again, through thigh deep snow.  After another 100 yards, I decided to turn and trek out to Cascade Falls instead.  I would not get close to the summit at this rate and I wanted to ensure I would see beauty today.  My mind needed it.  My heart demanded it.  My soul longed for it.  My depression couldn't handle it.  It would flee into darkness at the sight of my beloved mountains.

Halfway there on the trail, the ice sheet began to get thicker on the northern facing trail.  My Black Diamond Crampons were going to earn their keep.  Strapped on and back to climbing, I took in the gorgeous views high above the northern shores of Fallen Leaf Lake.  Continuing on, I passed gnarly trees laden with snow and ice, looked at tracks of all different animals and snapped many photos.  Healing was happening as it so often does while my boots rhythmically move along forested pathways.  

A minor slip and fall due my carelessness and not having my ice axe in hand, led to a puncture wound from my crampons on my inner thigh.  I laughed in the moment, but realized how this could have gone wrong.  I reflected again on my cousin.  My favorite trail medicine besides Vitamin "I" (Ibuprofen) is Super Glue.  Applied to a non-bleeding wound, it seals and keeps it safe so I could continue on.

Reaching the terminus of my journey, I found a rock to sit on and meditate.  Hanging my prayer flags between two trees, I offered my thanks to the spirits of the mountains for safe passage, the angels who watch over me and the universe for blessing me with for all which is in front of my eyes.  The wind seemed to roar as my meditation finished and goosebumps appeared on my skin.  A lightness shrouded me and comforted me.  Only blue skies and beauty was seen and felt.  

This was a trip well worth extra work the day after.

I hope all who read this know that depression is a real thing.  Grief and pain can sink in for no reason.  They grip and take hold of your mind, heart and spirit.  It is in these times, to engage your passion.  To follow your soul.  To lay under the stars and dream.  To do whatever it is you do to feel at peace.  Daily routine will always be there in the morning.  You, however, may not be.  Grab your dreams and go.  Seek your adventure and follow your heart no matter what.  Free your soul and allow magic to take place.

"Leave nothing but footprints, take nothing but pictures, kill nothing but time..."

Namaste, friends, and may the love, light and peace of this universe find its way to your soul...