In my early adult years, I spent a lot of time trekking the tropical mountains nearby, often through warm, humid forests and thick undergrowth. I look now at the forest with a great deal of humility, but when young, all I wanted was to reach the top. I was fit, fast, and looked a hundred miles ahead, oblivious to the beauty I rushed so callously by.
Yet one thing never failed to slow my pace - an opening, a gap through the foliage, a window to the skies. As we climbed higher, the air cooled, and the gaps grew wider, sometimes wide enough to offer a magnificent view of the clouds. I no longer remember the details - what the trees looked like, how wide the gap, what I saw through the window. But I remember how cool the air, how refreshing the view. I remember a sensation of great freedom, and imagined gaps through an intoxicating mesh of boughs and vines, a big sky, and an eagle drifting through the clouds.