Scouring for meaning at Devil’s Bridge

December is finally here, which means hiking is back on the menu in my corner of the world. The infamous red rock formations of Sedona have been calling my name for awhile now. On this day I head to a new trail, Devil’s Bridge, on the backside of this town, with my pack full of water and my mind racing with new thoughts.
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The night before, I was reaquainted with a very special old friend. Thoughts and feelings bubbled inside of a part of my soul I thought was long dead. I needed time in the wilderness to make sense of these new emotions.
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I kick the red dust into the air as I whistled along the trail. I’m not used to feeling so happy. The higher I climb to reach the summit of Devil’s Bridge, the clearer it becomes that I care deeply for my friend.
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I traipse across the bridge with ease, feeling invincible. The sun is slowly starting it’s descent and the rocks around me glow in the light of the setting sun. It’s one of those picture perfect days, which contributes to my new sense of being and purpose.

I realize that I do care. This could be the beginning of a new stage in my life, one that is scary as hell, but as with all things that are meaningful and real, if you take it slowly but with good intent and an open heart, the journey could be the best one yet.
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Let life come crash into me baby.

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Wench, bring my ale, what say you?