Here we are.  Isolated.  Sequestered.  Quarantined.  We may be feeling hopeless or hopeful depending on which area of this country we live in.  We may find ourselves day dreaming more or thinking back to past adventures, trips and times with family we may be isolated from. 

Times like this, we should all turn our thoughts and minds towards the things that bring life, energy and happiness to us.  Our passions.  Our dreams.  Our life goals.  I have blogged about all these things in the past and at times, go and read and re-read them to settle my mind if it is troubled. 

This month, I was inspired by an essay written by Ansel Adams entitled “What a Mountain Can Mean.”  Ansel Adams, to me like millions of other photographers, is an inspiration.  We all have been asked the question, “If you could have dinner with five people, living or dead, who would they be?”  My five always includes Mr. Adams.  It also always includes John Muir, Siddhartha Gautama, Mahatma Ghandi and Anatoli Boukreev.  The five people who inspire me and souls I feel most closely aligned to.  A topic to be discussed in a future blog.

Today, however, Ansel Adams made me think hard about “What Mountains Mean to Me?”.  A brief mediation (in my office) centered me as the sounds of “Healing Earth” played softly in the background.  The lightness and calm descended on me as it so often does and after my brief session concluded, I found myself staring at the Ansel Adams masterpiece entitled Monolith.  For those of you unfamiliar with this piece, I encourage you to look it up.  It is a black and white (he deployed a red filter over the lens to bring drama and show the true scale of Yosemite National Park’s iconic, Half Dome.  Taken in 1927, the image is timeless.  It is perfect.  The creation of a rock formation known the world around.  One of the main draws that brings over 4 million people to Yosemite National Park each and every year. 

I began to day dream about this park, this mountain and all mountains I have had the privilege of climbing over the years and decided that Ansel’s essay should be the focus of this month’s post.  Looking back over the years and summits, I thought about the memories, the people I’ve climbed with and the feelings experienced on each summit and the meaning of each of them.  They each mean something different.  Some are remembered for the difficulty of the climb and others for the personal challenges and struggles bearing on me as I climbed. 

Each mountain, regardless of how difficult (Pyramid Peak), how cold (Ralston Peak), how long (Mt. Whitney), how breathtaking (Clouds Rest) or how depressed I was (Mount Tallac), lifted my heart and soul to a place that calmness overcame me and relieved me of my worry and sadness.

“Mountains are not Stadiums where I satisfy my ambition to achieve, they are the cathedrals where I practice my religion.” This quote by Anatoli Boukreev is true, each and every time I lace up my boots and put on my pack.  A connection to nature.  A connection to every living thing this world has in it.  A connection to the divine universe and the divinity in each of us. 

“Really, Mike?  A mountain does all that?  You are so weird.”

I’ve heard that more than I can count and each time my response is the same; “Yes, it really does and yes, I love being a weirdo.”   

To me, mountains (especially the Sierra Nevada for which I have a deep and true soul connection with) have the ability to bring healing to a wounded heart and soul.  To simply “be” while trekking over scree and talus.  To hear the unmistakable call of the Stellar’s Jay and the squeal of a Pika.  To be greeted by the soul hugging scent of the Incense Cedar or touch the bark of tree (Ancient Bristlecone Pine) which has existed for 4 millennia.  I never take for granted the view.  The sweeping landscape below and how at elevation, nothing else matters.  Not deadlines, chemotherapy, chores, traffic and kid’s activities.  Here, in those moments, it’s my chance to be truly, who I am.   

Mountains have called to me ever since I was small.  The grand peaks, snow covered year round, rising high into the troposphere and in the case of Mount Everest, the stratosphere.  My library is made-up of dozens of books on hiking, mountaineering, mountain history and lore.  Even on my couch in the quiet hours of Saturdays and Sundays before my daughters wake and create chaos and noise, I bury myself in the stories of Ed Viesturs, David Breashears and Sir Edmund Hillary.  I find peace in those pages.  I find peace in the same fashion I do when I crest a saddle between two peaks and full the roaring and icy cold wind blast me.  Glissading down the face of Pyramid Peak with my ice axe poised at the ready to function as my break as my laughter and happy screams echo out over Desolation Wilderness. 

Centered.

At peace.

Oneness.

I dream of making the mountains an everyday occurrence.  I dream of guiding people to my favorite spots in the Sierra Nevada.  To show them wonder, majesty and awe.  To hopefully allow them to feel the same connection in the hallowed mountains trod by intrepid adventurers and hikers alike.  To feel exhilaration and let go of hurt, anger and depression.  To heal from tragedy and find peace within. 

Simply, the mountains bring me a peace that nowhere else can.  Maybe it’s because I prefer the company of myself or a few others to a group of thousands.  Maybe it’s because the distance away from everything noisy that society is.  Maybe it’s the smell and sounds of nature.  Frankly, I think it is all of those things, and more.  I believe in the power of nature and altitude as a healer.  I believe that we can all find a degree of peace and happiness out in the wild.  I firmly believe that everyone, even those who hate the mosquitos, gnats and biting flies, can experience a Nirvana of sorts out there.

Mountains mean so much to me.  As the natural high ebbs from a day of peak bagging, I look back at the memories and do my best to document them in prose and poetry.  To capture the feelings felt high above the world and convey them to whatever audience chooses to read this here.  I encourage you all to immerse yourself in “What a Mountain Means to You”, even if it isn’t a mountain. 

Love, light and healing peace to all my readers.  May your days be full of positive vibrations and the gentle light of our universe. 

‘”Leave nothing but footprints, take nothing but pictures, kill nothing but time.”

Namaste, friends…