A hike is a form of meditation for me.
A chance to move from big to small in my observations and my thoughts on daily life.
I often find myself beginning a solo hike taking in big picture views. No sounds and no smells. Just views.
As I meander down the trail through rushing springs and crunching over piles of fallen leaves, I begin to observe the beauty in the details.
The curvature of each leaf as it floats lazily down from its bough, drifting slowly, idly to its resting place in the chalky dust.
The tranquil flow of water down a hill, rushing over fallen logs, winding though the green river grasses.
The gnarled roots intersecting trails as they fight and push their way through the mineral rich mud.
The roughness of the bark, the heady scent of its needles and the sticky sweetness of its sap.
The taste of the sweet mountain air on my tongue.
The whistle and creek of the crisp mountain wind blowing through a graveyard of fallen trees.
The shapely crags in the hillside, the crunch of fallen leaves, the beauty and wholeness of this majestic landscape, it is my yoga. My reflection time. My here and now.