How do you measure a life?
“Life is not measured by the breaths we take but by the moments that take our breath away.”
I start the hike in essential silence. What is that you say? It is the space of deep introspection where you can still manage to yell out to your friend, “Don’t step on the snake next to your foot. Watch out for that rock. You are about to step off a cliff.” You hold the rest of the internal banter inside and watch the mind as you continually drop back into observing the present moment. “The sky is so blue today. What’s for dinner? The red rocks of Sedona, Arizona, burst out like flames under the hot desert sun. How long will this hike last? That hawk flying overhead is so beautiful.” Eventually the mind rests into the present moment as the hike continues.
I contemplate the New Year ahead in this sacred time of retreat into nature. I take stock and measure of life. As I place one foot in front of the next, I honor all that I am leaving behind on this sacred journey. With the next step, I honor all that I am calling into my life. With each step, release … renew … release … renew …
I leave behind this moment in time never to be seen again, past moments of shame, bad habits, … luckily there were a lot of steps on this hike … there’s a lot to leave behind. I shift my intention to the future for the next steps. I call in passion to fill my heart, stories to inspire, friends to sit at the dinner table, …
I trudge through the flat valley towards the steep rock formation in the distance. As we walk along, my breath gets heavier. The air here is thinner than sea level where I live. My mind busies itself in the surroundings. Wow! Beautiful rock formations. Is this the right way on the trail? Are those coyote tracks? Where did I put my sunglasses? Avoid the cactus needles.
I look up, and suddenly the canyon wall is right next to me. It seemed so far in the distance just a moment ago. Near vertical walls of red rock scale up nearly fifty stories high. The trail passes the Birthing Cave on the right, Medicine Wheel on the left, before climbing up, up, up, … switchback … switchback … and still up …
Finally, I’m pulling myself up the last rocks to get to the top of the cliff. My eyes are no longer looking up, but across. I realize that the flat top of this cliff looks over into the next valley. I stand up. A sense of vertigo and unease in my stomach overwhelms me for a moment. The clifftop is only 20 feet across, and I feel like I’m on a tightrope. Perched on the ridge between two valleys, I repeat to myself. You are ok. The wind cannot blow you off the edge. Stay back just in case.
The expanse opens up before me with an eagle eye view across to the red rocks of the next canyon wall and the next cliff top in the distance. I am in awe. I take a breath, deeply inspired. I breathe in the cool fresh air, and I feel small in this big world that we live in but deeply connected to it.
Perhaps the anonymous author misunderstood this moment. Perhaps an inspired life is measured not by the moments that take our breath away, but by the moments that give us more space inside to breathe… this moment atop the cliff between two valleys caused me to breath in deeply as the awe struck me… this moment inspired me… this moment gave me breath.
Here’s a video from the top of that cliff in Sedona, Arizona, with my friends Gary Dotson and Suzanne Scurlock on a New Year’s retreat in January 2020.
Interested in a New Year’s Retreat? visit ReleaseAndRenewal.com.