Did Robert Frost Trip Over Snakes?

Of the handful of summers I've spent in Colorado, I've never experienced such perfection of warm sunshine, afternoon showers, cool "sleeping with the windows open" evening breezes, and fresh mornings that (remember, it's the law) demand you get outside. Given that I smoked my already thrashed knees on a run the day before, I headed out for a nice easy hike.

I stood looking at the trail map, planned a route I hadn't explored yet, and set off. Confident I was becoming more familiar with the area, it didn't matter where I went, I couldn't get lost on a simple hike. I relaxed into my surroundings, walking, breathing, feeling the sun on my shoulders, tripping over the occasional non-existent rock and looking around to see if anyone witnessed.

The first intersection I came to was not well-marked, and as you may have guessed, my plan evaporated. I remember when a girlfriend and I were experiencing our first hiking trails together we'd come to these junctures, and without getting all "WWRFD" (What Would Robert Frost Do?), I'll just say we always chose the trail that appeared to go "up" (duh). Whichever trails had hills, rocks, interest, looked more fun at the outset, well, that's where we'd go. And I did so yesterday.

That being said, we all understand if you climb, at some point, you have to get back down. Anyone who's ever climbed a Fourteener with me can tell you no one can whine, snivel, and bitch their way down a mountain like I can. In my defense, I believe I'm cursing on behalf of my knees because they: 1) lack the ability to eloquently string together the "@#$%*ing !#&%$*@er!" required to get us down off a mountain, and; 2) they lack cartilage to perform aforementioned feat without inflicting severe pain on their owner. So they really do have a legal complaint for what I'm asking of them. And of course I always pay later...

Back to yesterday's hike. I took the trail that looked more interesting. As I ascended, I reflected (because when you hike, you reflect; I believe that's another law) about all that led me to this point in my life, i.e. outside goofing off an a beautiful day while regular people are at work. True, I feel very blessed, and at ease for the first time, really, in my life. Don't get me wrong, I earned this - the fleas came with this dog, baby. But I looked back at all the choices I made, the plans that didn't pan out, and those unforeseen things that I stumbled upon, all of which made life amazing. What sucked most often led me to somewhere unknown and even more beautiful. The paths, jobs, relationships, that looked "more interesting," that seemed to be leading "up," or somewhere fantastic often were not as they appeared ... SNAKE ... Oh sh**, a snake. I stopped to give the snake the right-of-way, even greeted him, and noted there was no guarantee that if I chose the lower trail there wouldn't have been snakes, or worse. The snake served as a reminder there will always be something unexpected; you cannot predict what lies ahead when you make those life choices, so I've learned to be grateful for everything, good, and not-so-good, because they all led me to where I am today: happy in the here and now. Snakes, frogs, and all.

So did I end up getting lost? Pfft, that goes without saying. A few more trails, dead ends, but finally found my way back. Would I have still gotten lost had I brought the trail map that was sitting in my car? Yep. Pretty much. Again, if you've hiked with me, and my map, and compass, you've experienced my lack of navigational prowess. (Admit it, bitches, we had a blast anyway!) Besides, WWRFD? Did Mr. Frost have a GPS, map, compass, and actual 'marked' trails? I'm guessing not.

I try my best these days to not be attached to outcomes, expectations, and to fully live each experience. Step outside - your house and your comfort zone. Explore something new without presumption. Get lost. Greet the snakes, for they are not always bad news.

One of the most profound things I read this summer was when I was studying for yoga teacher training, "You are either now here or you are nowhere" (from Baron Baptiste's book, Journey Into Power).

Every path we've chosen was meant to teach us something. Let any regrets go for what you think you should have done - they will not serve you now. You'll never be there again. You'll never be here again.

Peace, love, and all things here and now. And nowhere else.