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December 26, 2010
The clouds cleared quickly. So had the mists below. From where I sat with my back against a rock, I enjoyed a clear view over the canyon, the place where I had camped the night before, and foothills rolling away toward the land where I lived.

Had lived. In reaching the lake I had crossed some kind of threshold where the mountain stopped resisting. Now I felt the opposite, not a physical force propelling me forward, but a strong certainty I must proceed, once I had rested. Something had changed within me, and I guessed something deeper would happen next.