I am back to practicing yoga regularly. I can’t tell you how thankful I am for that, it creates such peace in my mind and body to give myself that hour and a half on my mat. I love my teacher, who likes to talk about spirituality, connectedness, and the heart while kicking our sweaty asses. Periodically through any given class, she will ask “Where are you?” Now I know that this is a call to be present, to come into your body and focus on the moment, the posture. But I can’t help myself. Whenever she asks that question, I travel in my mind.

Sometimes, I am in my little one person marmot tent and the wind is whipping the fly. Rain is beating down on it and I crawl deeper into my sleeping bag. I breathe the freshness, the purity of the air in Argentine Patagonia. I think about the day I had, wandering the trails at the base of Fitz Roy. I can see it all, the Technicolor blue sky with cartoon like white puffy clouds sailing by, the unreal glow of sunshine on the meadow, and the sharp ridge of rock rising up out of the ground, covered in snow.

Other times, I am in the living room of Refugio Tinquilco, with Pato and Maz. The fire is roaring in the wood stove and we are giddy with Pisco and full bellies. Pato or his son is strumming a guitar, singing melodies that pull your heart and take you to other places, other times. The place is filled with the comfort smell of bread baking in the oven. I am so content in this paradise; I try to think of ways to never leave. In my musings, when I ask if Pato will adopt me, he says yes.

Then there is Peru. The moon is full and it is as close as it’s going to be to earth in a very long time. I make a new friend sitting on ancient stones above a fountain. We walk through dimly lit, narrow streets of cobblestone, with channels cut into their edges for the water to flow, to a ceremonial ground the Incas used. On these magic, giant boulders we lie down and stare at the moon. After a time, our backs slightly frozen, we start walking back to town. On the way we pass by the door to a courtyard. Inside a band plays and there is a party. No one inside is dancing, but out in the street, we are.

Outside of these moments, I am building the next section of my life. I’m thoroughly happy to be doing that in what ranks in the top 5 of most beautiful places I’ve been, the Pacific Northwest. These memories are not tinged with sadness or longing. They are simply where I still am, part of the time. It is the lasting benefit of adventure. Whatever that word means to you, when you have a good one, you never really stop feeling it, it never really leaves you.