It's harder to leave behind the mountains than it is to get out of bed in the morning.

January 16th, 2015, 11am

I didn’t grow up in Marin county, or the bay area in general. I grew up half on the road, half in houses and in the streets I barely had time to call “home”; and more than half of my childhood in the mountains where, as I got older, I felt alive and free and like I had finally found home. Throw me in the Sierras for a week and you’d see a whole other side of me. Let me loose in any forest, and you’d see the side of me that still believes in ancient myths and that the old gods still walked the earth. Come with me to the Sequoias, and don’t even think I’d believe for a second that there’s no such thing as magic in the world.

I feel best when I’m in high elevations and lost in the trees and ferns and old growth; I’ve dreamt of a time when I’d have my own little cabin in some secluded part of the forest where I can escape life and actually feel alive again. Everyone needs that place where they feel like they’ve com home again every time they return to it. For me, it’s the mountains. For me, it’s this little campground buried in Spicer Meadow where I spent my summers. For me, it’s a hard climb up impossible hills and into the trees where I hear nothing of civilization.

I spent a few days in Nevada this last week, in high desert, winter weather, and finally having a few days of rest and sleeping a full 12 hours a night. I missed it so badly, I needed it so much. Things are changing so quickly right now, I have hard decisions coming that either way, will be difficult to choose one or the other when it comes time to make them. I’m six months away from graduation and the crunch time panic has yet to set in. I feel like I’m on the edge, and running out of time to think and feel, and anchor myself before I take the plunge.

I always feel like the world is crashing down on me, but at the last minute, I think of a way out, a way to rebuild the foundation and keep it in place. I’ve survived too much for too long to be crushed by the weight now. I turned 25 on Christmas, and people have been saying it’s my golden year, but I have yet to figure if that’s significant or not.

I guess we’ll see.

Christine said thanks.

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líadan rí

lara, massage therapist, bibliophile, gamer, nerd. midnightfires @ flickr.

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