I want to share a little secret with you…I ADORE the Swiss Alps. OK, scrap that, I LOVE those mountains that sit just a couple of hours from my home. The alps have etched themselves on my heart much the way a lover does. I am giddy, silly, elated, downright hard – up for them. And when I am away too long, they beckon and whisper my name begging me to come back for more. I eagerly answer the call.
Because in their presence, they are the very shit that gets me pumped to embrace another weekend. They make the mundane tasks of this life a bit easier to swallow. They make me feel small when I need to be humbled and when the world and all of its complexities wear on me, they show me how simple this life can be.
Because when I am doing my thing in those mountains, all things are possible. Whenever I am surrounded by unfiltered beauty I want to push my personal limits and I want to climb, hike, allow my thoughts to ramble and do it all over again and again. I long to sweat, cry and fall back into myself in a way that can only be experienced without distractions because those mountains always render their undivided attention.
Because the mountains are pure and true, never cheating, never telling stories except those I long to hear. I know I must tread lightly on them, remembering to be cautious with my actions, or they will quickly remind me that this relationship is one of give and take.
Because the mountains teach me patience revealing themselves one layer at a time, never divulging all of their cards at once. I must learn to wait. Though I am always in a state of deep anticipation for what is to come, they teach me to slow down and breathe in all they have come to offer.