I ride the Raven here in the Yukon sky. The choppy strokes of his wings add to the queasiness of my stomach, me being afraid of heights.

He chortles as we go toward the King’s Throne. We fly above aspen then fir. We are soon at the tree line and above the slopes of scree.

The grade is dizzying and I wonder how one gets up, much less down. As we crest the slope and dip into the caldera of this mountain I see rising in front of me the remaining slopes after it blew apart.

The Raven speaks in my mind ” this is my home and not yours. You can come here and climb. You can come plant a flag on top and photograph. You can take away a piece, but you can’t make it your own”

As we glide back to earth he says to me ” your journey is to counqer the mountain of fear in your mind ” I say to him ” it is not the same, the mountain in my mind is not just one, but   many ”

He chortles and speaks”  don’t you see, you humans are climbers, it’s not if you get to the top, it’s when you get to the top. You will never be happy with the top. I have watched and seen you come and counqer. Your relentless drive is your burden and gift. Apply it to your twisted, tormented thoughts and you will find your equal ”

He dropped me to the earth and I could do nothing but sob. This is truly the journey that can break me, I thought, as I hesitantly stepped forward.