On the Mountain

I catch myself caught up in beauty, 
a mild distraction
while I am climbing a mountain,
an experience
that demands attention.

There is always danger.

I have started with too much baggage,
so must put aside
useless weight as muscles tire. 

No path is straight,
and I am constantly made aware of new beauty:
blue mountain flowers,
peaks sharp and black in outline
against clear sky.

I look down on the next valley over,
feel the thrill of horror,
the prospect of endless falling
should ropes not hold;

for the first time know
that to fully experience beauty
I must slow down,

leave behind all prior expectance,
hold my fears and biases tight,
trust the strength of ropes
and also the repose of my body,

my only hope: to see as my body sees, 
to hold tight to my body’s experience,
to be alive
to my body's exuberance and delight,

and to not let go.