CLIMB EVERY MOUNTAIN...

I've always been into peaks. I'm what I refer to as a "percher". I eat my lunch on top of ladders. I like to sit on roofs. I've been known to fall asleep on six inch railings well off the first floor-- sometimes the twentieth floor (with one eye open, mind you). High places never bothered me. As long as I am not actually falling, I am totally cool.

Falling tends to freak me out.

I've always been into peeks. I'm what I refer to as a "looker". I make the coffee kiosk girl lean way out to pass me my latte. I ask her if she'd like to pet my collie and give it a biscuit. Coffee kiosk girls will do a latte for a big tipper. I have always been a big tipper. And a good looker. I am not ashamed of being a good looker.

Looks never hurt anybody.

Peak peeking can be as tantalizing as an innocent glance and as profound as an hour long stare sitting on one of the world's great nipples. Every year possible, I like to go sit on top of Mt. Shasta and drink a latte carried up in a thermos and contemplate the rugged cleavages of life on earth.

I look at the swales and wonder what supports it all. I try to see gravity by squinting, but always fail. I imagine the human species climbing up beside me and acknowledging the ridiculous seriousness of each and every one of our lives.

Babies know what to look for. They know what to value.

I wish I were this baby, peak peeking in total comfort.

Me. I have to slog up loose rock and slippery snow for six thousand feet to get to this level of peace.

Can I start over?