A friend and I were recently talking about church and hiking—which in my book are one in the same. Some of our more devout friends don't exercise on Sundays or the Sabbath because those are meant to be days of rest. Meant only for worship and spiritual restoration.
But I realized today, as I climbed the hills near the Hollywood sign, that hiking (and any exercise outdoors) is my form of worship. It not only enables me to honor the beauty and wonder of the natural world, it allows me to honor the strength and capability of my body.
What better way to say thank you to the Universe and heavens than push your ability and bask in the glory of your physical capabilities? All the while, marveling at the bright blue sky and scent of sagebrush and sight of horseback riders. It makes you appreciate the world around you. And the world inside of you. It taps a well of gratitude like no other.
And there's a meditative quality about hiking—the rhythmic crunch of your steps balanced with the whoosh of your breath. Like a tribal beat. It clears the mind and refills empty vessels in the soul.
I really think there's nothing like it. And there's no other place I'd rather spend a Sunday morning than on the side of the mountain, celebrating all that exists inside and outside of me.