The high places of this world are intriguing to most people and fascinating to the few of us who have been able to get to the top of them. El Capitan, a Colorado Fourteener, the top of dirt piles, and penthouse apartments attract me because of their heightened position. My perspective improves when I’m on top; I can see things objectively and as they are. Truth and inspiration whisper to you in the breeze and you seem to lack nothing. The hard part of getting to the top is over—it can only go down from here.

Paris is becoming a high place in my life. I’m seeing people as they are, watching life as it is—without any subjective impressions. The people on the train are the ones who whisper reality, even though the breeze isn’t exactly fresh. My travel companions can introduce secret revelations with just a glance. And it may sound extremely spiritual, but I recognize that I’ve been prepared for my time here…, prepared enough to see things I wouldn’t have seen before. It is clear that I am not in my element, that my comfort zone exists somewhere far from here. Prior mountain-top experiences have granted me hind’s feet to keep me balanced while prancing inconspicuously through France.

I don’t know to what culmination we are heading towards this week, but I know that though the high places only last momentarily in our minds, they last eternally in our characters and relationships. Hind’s feet for high places… may I learn to use them effectively and not be ashamed when I fall.