somewhere in the alps... june 2005.




















someone told me once to walk my own path. i feel this often, and it's not always easy. which way is the best? i'm tired of all these weeds. it's getting dark, and there is a strange sound in the woods.

that summer, i walked 100 miles. through and up and over some of the most beautiful land i've ever seen. i had company, thank god. it rained and sleeted on us. the sun shone hot over murky glacial rivers. melted the snow under our feet. warmed our sweaty faces. we ate and laughed and sang songs on the trail. and i pressed on, finished the hardest days on my own two blistered feet, with a sense of satisfaction so deep that it all came back today as i looked at old photos again.

i am proud now of the me i was just two years ago. a bit softer. younger. smiling large in so many pictures. cheeks flushed with exertion and fresh air, the thrill of acheivement. high on the fact of an adventure come true. being alive in france, italy. eating pasta and chocolate atop peaks with views. sleeping as only you can after dragging your body up and down a mountain that feels too big, and then is conquered after all. high on the spirit of strength i didn't quite know i had. high on independence, and following something i wanted.

this week i've been pressed down by the thought of aging. years pass, and i want to move forward, have something to show for myself. i want more, and wonder about progress.

and then i look back, and i surprise myself, drawing strength from who i was. it's not only our future self that holds dreams, after all. to see all that raw beauty and heart back then brings comfort and a settling in. to where i am on the path, right this moment.