"What have you always loved?" I was asked the other day.

Sometimes when I come off a mountain, it's a struggle for me to adjust back to life in the city. Maybe it's all the noise, getting back to traffic, cell phones, laptops, all the pressures, obligations and expectations. For some reason, I've never been able to accept that the city is where my life lives. Despite growing up here, it has never felt like home.

Every time we come back to our vehicle after a day in the mountains, there is a part of me that wants to run in the opposite direction, or pace around explaining all the reasons we shouldn't go back. I know I'm not the only one to feel this way. Anyone who spends even a little time in the great outdoors can't help but arrive back to "civilization" with the feeling that perhaps everything we've built around us is far from real and lasting. You can't help but question the way you live your life after seeing the magnificence and antiquity of mountains, you can't help it, not after breathing in all that space and being at those heights, trekking and climbing a long steep way just to be with yourself once more. You can't help but question the smallness of your days and doings and ask yourself why.

I think there is something most of us crave, whether we be nature lovers or not: to feel that we are satisfied, to be able to say we have lived our days richly and well, and carried them out in a way that gives us a sense of meaning and accomplishment. It's an age old query to philosophize over who we are and the reasons we choose to live as we do. There's a saying that goes: 

  When you think you have it all figured out, you're screwed.   

But it's a strange thing to think that no one has any big answers. All the years I've been growing up, it's as though I've been waiting for someone to come along who will have answers for me. Someone who will sit me down and tell me what to do with my life and how to treat those around me, how to consider myself and conjure up some sort of identity, and tell me my strengths and how to fix my flaws. But that person has never shown up for me, and I'm beginning to understand -- no one with answers is coming along because we're all trying to figure it out. And at the end of the day, we're all responsible for choosing our own path.

After coming down from Tricouni this past Wednesday, I spent the next two days feeling incredibly sensitive. It's always hard, not just on me but everyone else in my life, when this happens for I'm not really myself. I find that I long and quietly mourn after a myriad of different things, none of which I can really articulate with words. Maybe it's the loss of innocence, or a desire to be a child again without a thought for what's coming. It could be that I wish to have a more simple life, to have a greater understanding of what I want, for a sense of direction and purpose. But I think this is all part of growing up.

There is joy and happiness alongside all of this of course. My family and friends are my greatest loves, and every day I say a little prayer of thanks to be able to know them, to kiss them and pass our time together. There is ecstasy in the little things, but also a sadness. And it's ok to acknowledge that. There is the knowledge that nothing lasts, that everything is transient and often fleeting. One thing I've observed so far is that time goes by quickly, and seems to hasten it's pace during the times you cherish most. I've always known not to take much for granted, and I'm glad. At least I know how to treasure.

Perhaps this is why I write everything down, because I want to look back and remember that I considered that which I love earnestly and with great care, that I never ignored the beauty of all that is around me, the people so dear to me, the many friendships, the gift of nature, my health and youth. I'm aware as well that there will be many times down the road where I'll have to question myself. I want to be able to say I've lived softly and treated others with gentleness and kindness, and that I'll be proud of the decisions I've made and the way I chose to live.

I think this is why I go into the mountains, to foster this kind of sensitivity to life, to be in a position where I must be respectful and accountable to myself and others, to keep forging my own way and know that I'm strong enough to live well...

Photos of Tricouni Peak in Paradise Valley, British Columbia.