When I ascend the stone steps of—last week, Lake 22, or yesterday, Vernal Falls—I am suspended in that moment between departure and arrival, effort and ease, interrupted only by some terminated vista of lake or waterfall when the path and therefore the moment reaches its endpoint. I am in the flow state: suddenly all of my senses are on, my field of vision both widens and sharpens, the edges and contours of the forest and trail vibrate with new detail. I am at home with all things, spirit sans mind, and yet still a body, a machine purpose-built for this environment. Another thousand feet of gain towards the frozen lake or the waterfall that refracts the color of the day and this physical body is suddenly transparent and clear, inseparable from the air it breathes now, more deeply than it ever has indoors. I am made for this—the first thought, and the last thought—made for this sensation, ecstatically alive and without time, without analysis, free at last from the burden of personality.