Hiking Mt. Whelm

    Sometime a week or so ago, I went over the edge.  I'm overwhelmed.  Like every woman I know, I spend almost all of my time at the very edge of "whelm."  My toes dangle right there at the crest. Lately, I've found myself hanging over the rock face by one hand.  I've been sick.  I've been worried about my children.  There are inflexible deadlines at work coming at me and they seem to be speeding up. There's volunteer work I'm responsible for and not quite pulling off, it seems.  There's family stuff that is messy and complicated like everyone's family stuff is.  There's this cocker spaniel puppy that keeps forgetting he's housebroken.  I leave for Rwanda in three weeks.  I'm not even close to ready.  My house looks like a fraternity house on a Sunday morning after the big party.  It's all become too much for me.

BUT

     The view here is breathtaking.  It would have to be, otherwise, why would intelligent women spend so much time here?  It's all about the view.

     See, at the peak of Mt. Whelm is where we can see the possibilities of made beds, clean bathrooms, and all the laundry being folded and put away.  They are just over that next ridge.

We get a birds' eye view of those work projects totally rocked out.

Just across the valley we can see our children's successes--making the honor roll, hitting the curve ball, beasting that audition for the wind ensemble.  Here, above the tree line, our marriages are joyful and romantic and sexy.

     Of course, it's dangerous at the precipice.  The weather is unpredictable.  It gets really cold at night.  The snow remains year round.  There is always the threat of an avalanche.  The air is thinner, up here, too.  Sometimes, it's hard to breathe.  Sometimes, our packs are too heavy or our footing unsure and we go over the edge.

Photo courtesy of Bangor Daily News

But that view.