at 8,000 feet

I find myself at 8,000 feet on a work trip amidst the perfectly crafted Colorado Rocky Mountains and the ‘happy little trees’ made famous by Bob Ross-- you know that artist you see on PBS with the big hair and soft spoken voice. The air is thin and my lungs cling to whatever particles it can absorb, process and use to fuel my body. I think about where I am at: nearing 30, in the midst of so many life changes and on the brink of so many life discoveries. It feels insurmountable.

Some days I feel as if I have accomplished so much: traveled to many distant countries, contributed to the political development of countless youth in South Central, was a part of something so much larger than myself that it changed policies in the truly convoluted Los Angeles Unified School District, survived broken hearts, learned the truth of what family really means by distancing myself from my blood. I was a top scholar at my university and in my major and now I am a clown complete with the face paint, balloon animals and wigs. I left a career I thought I would have for life and am here jogging in the nation’s center for right-winged-conservative-evangelical-Christians.

Its hard to breath. The altitude is bringing me down. Used to 5-mile runs on a regular basis, I can’t believe how winded I am after a small trek uphill. I feel like my life is at square one again and it is devastating, exhilarating, shocking, disappointing and comforting all at the same time. With each breath, my lungs burn a little more and I have become light headed. They warned me this would happen at this height.

I round the corner, cross the street and stop in absolute awe of the sun setting against the hand painted red mountains. My spirit is taken back to another time amongst the mountains much further away. The top of Mount Pichincha in Quito, Ecuador had me soaring in the Andes Mountains near the Earth’s equator. That day, though years ago, is vivid in my mind. Awaking long before dawn to walk across the city to the base of the volcano; journeying up the flat areas with ease while running into the local families, goats, small hillside farms and the sweet smells of the land; pausing to rest on a cliff to enjoy pan dulce y naranjas for breakfast and breathing in the South American air in disbelief of this amazing opportunity. I think back on that day with pride and love as I recall the effort it took to climb that peak and ultimately assist with carrying down an injured compaÑera upon our return.

It hits me: that day I had been close to 12,000 feet without a trace of the struggle I feel in my body today. My mind had been clear of where I had been or where I was going. That day was about living in the moment. I had no idea that I was at an altitude that came with the dangers of untamable headaches, nausea, hallucination, and vomiting. Rather, my mind was wrapped around the people and struggles of the country, the lessons to be learned in this new adventure and my mind used every exertion to remember each tree, cloud, snow-topped mountain peak, the breeze against my cheek and the intense heat of the sun upon my face.

Back at 8,000 feet, I remembered to remember the moment and recognize that this altitude would not keep me from my intention- just as years ago on the peak of that mountain I had not even passed a thought of self-defeat. I set my body back into a jog and pushed out the thoughts of the burning lungs and desire to stop. Where I am in life is where I am and that comes from deliberate action in spite of finding myself stuck in between feeling like I have accomplished all that I can and not having accomplished anything at all. Each moment comes with a new chance and a new opportunity to reach even higher altitudes and gain an ever evolving perspective.