High Sierra was the most transformative semester of my college experience at APU. While I was there, I described it as a pressure cooker, condensing a lifetime of memories, education, and spiritual formation into a mere four and a half months. However, what I didn’t realize was how it would continue to pressure-cook me into the person I want to be long after my time in the mountains. It has framed my perception of the world and how I see myself participating in the world. I will never forget the last day of our second backpacking trip of the semester. My trek team was sitting at the base of Devils Bathtub in the wilderness of Yosemite National Park, where a continuous trickle of water washed the surface of a giant slab of granite. My team sang the doxology, first by looking at the sublime scenery of the valley and granite, and a second time, looking at one another’s faces. It was in that moment that I felt a depth of emotion for the beautiful people surrounding me that I had not felt in my entire life. Not a single person had a dry eye, and I realized in that moment what my time at High Sierra was all about--living into every moment with intention and depth. Yes, the education is challenging and rewarding and the backpacking is thrilling, but I am always struck by the relationships I formed as the most significant part of my journey. Now, I live unabashedly and full heartedly, never wasting the moments or the people I come into contact with (even the strangers). My poem captures that desire to continue dancing, even when most my High Sierra semester has graduated and moved across the country and world. With all of that said, go boldly, and know that this is a radically transformative time to be alive. Dancing with Time Remember that one time we danced. The rocks cried The moon smiled And we fearlessly shook the Mountains Waving our shirts as a symbol of Beauty and love. Beauty and love I learned, while Looking at faces and granite and Quarreling with dead men. We shouted and cried and laughed Filling us so full We stretched Now, a little deflated We ache. For breath to fill our lungs again A breath scented by pines and dirt Whispered by lips, I know A collective sigh– This is life. Remember that one time we danced. The music is faint But I hear it, I hear the feet stomping on chairs and tables And hearts thumping From laughter And ending on our backs in a puddle Of arms and legs and beards. For your sake, let us dance again In remembrance, of when We lived to dance. By Ary Petrosky
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