For the purpose of sanity, humanity requires wilderness. If I don’t find solitude in nature on a regular basis, I become a fish out of water. It is a matter of survival.

It is absurd when my type A personality imposes goals on top of the spiritual experience found in nature. As if I am competing to conquer the Universe.

With only a six-hour window to climb a mountain called the “Ramp” in the Glen Alps area I have no time to spare. After getting to the base of the Ramp, after 5.5 miles, I must turn around. Upset for at least an hour, I come to my senses.

It is a glorious day with a brilliant cerulean sky above and at least ten gigantic bull moose loitering alongside the trail. The only worthwhile goal is to be in nature. Hitting the reset button. Breathing again. Stepping outside of myself and the difficulties of everyday life.

“I swear the earth shall surely be complete to him or her who shall be complete,
The earth remains jagged and broken only to him or her who remains jagged and broken.”
― Walt Whitman

Instead of 5,000 feet, I climbed 4,500. Instead of going 12 miles, I hiked 11. Short of the summit, my type A brain considers this a failure. The more self-aware part of me, the part that knows how the soul heals, the part that knows where home is, knows better.