By Cheri Feyrer
Recall the things in your own life which you feel are worth getting your hands, feet, and pants dirty
for. I am thinking back to those lucky times I have had in the forest; hiking through wilderness will
almost surely dirty you, especially when taking an unbeaten path, one that challenges you, forces you
to trust the person next to you, and causes you, at multiple points, to ask yourself if you’ll be hurt
before you reach the top. You will either make it to the top of that mountain, or fall over the side
trying. There will be dirt and seeds in your boots, blisters on your heels, and likely a tear in your
favorite pants. I recall a time not too long ago, where I was hiking through the dense Yosemite
wilderness, on my way to touch the face of that magnificent structure El Capitan. Rather than taking
the approach trail there, we had made the choice to push our way there; ducking beneath trees, holding
the branches for each other so neither one got left behind or poked in the eye, grabbing hands to help
lift us atop those steep and wobbly rocks. Moving slowly, yet not too carefully, stepping in the other’s
footsteps because you know that foothold will not give way, or leading the way, being willing to fall so
that the other knows where the faulty footholds lie.
( I want to be as the swans, who crane their lengthy necks towards their life mate, and the old
woman who experiences heart pains for the rest of her fragile life after her husband moves without her
to that mysterious place beyond the thin veil. Consider the mother octopus, who drains herself of
everything, life itself, out of love for another, and dies shortly after giving new life. I want to be as my
own mother, who loves so fully that her love overflows beyond this life and on to the next.)
Every so often, I would see the places where the snow had been reached by the intense light,
thawed, and given new life to the soil beneath it. Come spring, that soil once covered with ice will give
way to Lupines, Deer Brush, and Western Columbine. The land is forever altered, and even in the
snow, there are deep footprints, proof of our ability to love things which make the course of life more
slippery, yet inevitably more fragrant.
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