my first word was "out". perched on my dad's shoulders, i pointed to the trail ahead, "out." hiking is in my blood, but a serious injury has taught me that "out" is more about perspective than geography. traveling into each moment as it unfolds, humbly laying bare its ephemeral beauty. it is a sacred attendance - the joy in the dance of light and shadow, the stillness of snow, the quiet of rain on a soft petal, the ebullience of the shining birch.