Ralph Waldo Emerson: "The good of going to the mountains is that life is reconsidered."

Contentment. Its song is a simple, relaxed sigh I hear on a mountaintop sung by a little dog cradled in the crook of my arm.

We have a summit ritual where I pick Atticus up and he sits like a ventriloquist dummy and equally as still. He never looks down or nervously jerks his head this way or that as you would expect from most dogs. Instead he looks out at the other mountains as if this is where he belongs and he's looking out at familiar friends. After a moment of this he relaxes his body a bit, allows his weight to push into me and then he sighs. It’s a deep, soulful sigh. Whenever I hear it I envy him because I don't think I've ever been so content in my life.

When Atticus and I first started coming to the mountains (four years ago) I used to think he was accompanying me. It was a normal assumption. After all, our dogs go where we go. But I was wrong. For us it's the other way around. I'm the accessory to his passions. It's like Atti’s breeder Ruth Freeman told me when he was blind and she urged me to get him to the mountains, “That’s where he does his soul work.”

She was right.

That was two years ago. And still, no matter how many mountains we climb, when I pick him up he is intense in his reverence of this sea of neverending mountaintops as if he's looking into the face of God. Perhaps he’s praying - or maybe such souls are beyond such things.

In “The Soul’s Code” James Hillman gives numerous examples of the predetermined paths of varied famous people throughout history and shows the clear path they were on from the beginning. They were destined to be different than the rest of us. Hillman argues this is a human gift, not something animals possess. And yet after seven years with Atticus, I would argue he is wrong on this last point.

I have no doubt that this little dog was born to be up here doing just what he has done - doing what he continues to do. He is an unlikely peakbagger, especially in winter, and yet he has proven his prowess, his drive and his affinity for the mountains time and again. There are little curiosities that clue me into this from time to time. Just the other day while we stopped on the Stony Brook Trail for a drink of water on the climb up Moriah I took note of something Atti continuously does. Whenever we stop to rest and then start again, he picks up the journey and always goes in the right direction. If we are on the way up, no matter how long we stop for, when I stand up, he continues up the trail. If we are on the way down, he does just the opposite. (Heck, many dogs I know don’t go the right way when their humans are leading them and yet he has this uncanny sense to him.)

In following Atticus some of what he sees and much of what he does has rubbed off on me. I used to hurry up and down the mountains as quickly as possible, starting my stopwatch at the beginning of every hike and stopping it as soon as I reached my car. Stupid me. I missed the best part of the journey. John Muir eloquently stated, “Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into your as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves.” It took watching a little dog and letting him set the pace to teach me what I needed.

In watching Atticus and his reverence for views and peaks, I grew to appreciate them all the more and the more I did, the faster my life changed.

I’m not saying that this little dog I live with is perfect...far from it. His cancer scare and the blindness has proven that. But he is perfect for me. He’s changed my life. Had I not learned from him I would have continued on the fast track to a stroke or a heart attack. I wouldn’t be the slightest bit as happy or as healthy as I am now.

I’m betting that even if you don't have such a dog, there’s something in your life that is waiting for you to wake up and pay attention so it can lead you to a more fulfilled life. Teachers don’t stop reaching out to us when we leave school; they just don’t stand in front of a classroom any more. Our job is to figure out who or what the teachers and the lessons are and then plot the changes we are supposed to make. Perhaps the greatest teacher of all is right outside your window – Nature.

With Memorial Day here, the summer has unofficially started. Do yourself a favor and go for a hike. If that’s too much for you, simply turn off the television and go for a walk around the block or down the street and take the time to pay attention to what’s around you. If I could learn to do it anyone can.

If you are reading this in the Northcountry News, you most likely live in the mountains or are visiting them. Ralph Waldo Emerson would say that’s a good sign. After all, he’s the one who wrote, “The good of going into the mountains is that life is reconsidered.”