Last week I found myself hauling a pack along a granite ridge at 8000 feet in Oregon’s Elkhorn Mountains. Though the air was thin, and drifts of snow gave way under my feet, I felt alive and present. Views rose up on all sides, and when we reached a pass, still more views splashed across our dazzled eyes. And even so, there were moments in those mountains when the spirit really came out. Light played in a certain way on the land – cliff, forest, lake and meadow – and said “here I am, this is it.”