As consciousness expands, life becomes simpler. Not easier — clearer. Each interaction reveals something about who we are and how we move through the world.
We camped in Tuolumne Meadows for two weeks every summer when I was little. Ancient Granite under my feet. Sun-warmed pine. Water moving over stone in a rhythm older than thought.
I fell in love with that sound — the rivers, the hush between wind and mountain. It’s still where my healing visualizations return. The space I call the “In Between.” Wide. Listening. Alive.
Out there, I learned a few simple things:
Leave it better than when you found it.
Enjoy everything. Take nothing.
Clean up after yourself.
Live in wonder.
Stay aware so you don’t get hurt.
Respect nature.
Learn from others.
Help when you can.
Commune with what is alive around you.
When I ran away from home at sixteen, I went back. Every summer weekend, I camped alone. I was afraid of the dark. Afraid of the wildness — outside and inside.
Yosemite is not gentle. It is vast and indifferent and breathtakingly alive. I made mistakes. I learned quickly that awareness is not optional. That arrogance gets humbled. That you don’t conquer nature — you learn how to move within it.
In that wildness, I found myself.
As I grew older, I was drawn to spiritual teachings that echoed those same truths. Different language. Same foundation.
Harm none. Respect all.
That frequency feels like pausing before reacting. Considering the ripple of your choices. Taking responsibility for the wake you leave behind.
When new information arrives, examine it. Let it shift you. Do the best you can — and when you learn better, do better.
This world is not happening to us. It is happening through us.
Each of us is shaping it.
So walk gently. Stay aware. Leave it better than you found it.
Blessing:
May you be steady as granite and fluid as water.
May you listen between the sounds.
May your presence bring care to every space you enter.