Mountains and Molehills

Poof! All gone. All changed.

For 15 years,  when I have gone to the mountains, I have gone from the initial calm and happiness of travel, to a subtley expanding anxiety and irritability as the trip proceeded. By the time I would leave,  I would swear not to return.


The stories I told myself were things like “I am mildly claustrophobic…the mountains  oppress  me…” or “I am sensitive to energy and aggression. Mountains emerged as a form of violence…”


I was in bad relationships – relationships that were in effect stories too. That’s it. That’s all. As the vacations with the men extended,  my tolerance of the BS relationships began to wear against the equal peace within me striving to take me over.


It was a story. Like any story.

This week, I went to the mountains. No anxiety. No anger. So much peace and happiness that I tried to extend my stay. I wanted to be there longer.

I kayaked. I went horse back riding. I bathed in hot springs under a mountain Vista. I ate gourmet meals. I loved. I laughed. I meditated. I star gazed. I was glorious!

What has changed is my ability to be with and accept what is. To be my true self and align with that.


Unpleasant things happened. Things went wrong. There were moments where problems needed to be solved. Inner triggers asked for attention.

But I embrace those just as much. I learned as much about myself the second painful hour in my saddle as I did the first hour, where nothing hurt in my body.

And I have stopped creating stories about me. My ego doesn’t get to drive the bus anymore.


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