Mountains. I claim to be a fan, fain to worship in the shadow of their temple-like majesty, but have almost become a stranger to them in recent years. Blame it on geography, trying to establish a career, a shifting of priorities, age--whatever you will. But I have keenly felt their absence. For years, while living in the inner city of Baltimore, I felt so bored and uninspired by city life, by the East in general, always longing for the West. I remember stumbling onto 'Jeremiah Johnson' one night on television and suddenly seeing my home, my mountain--the ever elegant Timpanogos. What a rush of homesickness struck me!

I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey, I hear it in the deep heart's core.
--Yeats

I now live with a view of Pike's Peak from my window. Every morning, when I look out and take in the view--the snow capped peak, the detail of the pine trees--I feel a surge of adrenaline for a second, like when you look upon the face of a beautiful woman. Yet to my shame, in 2 months, I have yet to attempt a summit hike. I have gone on hikes a few times for about 2-3 thousand feet, and taken the train part way up, but never the summit.

Lately I've been thinking I need some new life goals, hobbies or passions. I am worried that too quickly I am sailing into a life of middle age, suburban mediocrity. I fear stagnant thought and muted emotions. I want to feel more inspired, passionate, engaged. And since I already know what inspires me, it is merely a matter of activating rather than searching.

The Goal: To climb all of Colorado's 54 peaks over 14,000 feet. http://www.14ers.org. The purpose: To help shake off the life of quiet desperation and reconnect with the core of living. I do not wish to peak bag; I have always had ambivalence toward such outward-facing goals. Furthermore, I am too old to think I have something to prove. Many others have done this--I am no pioneer. Many others are more physically fit, more accomplished outdoorsmen--as much as I like to compete, I know there will always be others that are better, faster, stronger. But I do want to challenge myself, to have some sort of goal that forces me to do those activities which will feed my soul. I need a destination that I might learn from the journey.

Spring

I recently read this journal entry of mine from one year ago:

"It has been rather warm recently, and one can sense the stirrings of spring beneath the muddy ground. After the severe cold we have had in February, the return of such physical warmth and light brings to mind memories of previous springs—the springs of childhood, the springs of youth, and, most of all, the return of the emotional warmth and light that has come into one’s heart after long periods of sadness and loneliness. Spring is a glorious sensation of memory. And while flowers and hopes of love have yet to bloom, still lying dormant beneath the cold ground, it is solace to know they are there--seeds of promise that, if you’re blessed, will bloom together to restore what was lost, or never truly found, long ago."

For some reason it really jumped out at me. Perhaps because of the coinciding approach of spring, perhaps because so much has happened in the past year, causing me to reflect on what seeds of hope have grown. Perhaps because I started dating Jen immediately after that journal entry. Perhaps because of all the anticipated changes this year will bring. Four years of toil and stress are now abating, and the return of spring this year promises much. I am ready for a new phase in my life, ready to go away and dream it all up again, ready for a new birth.