Stories from the Peaks
At dawn, Maya reached a modest pass and sat to watch light crawl over snow. Ten breaths later, tears came—relief, not sorrow. If her story echoes yours, leave a note of encouragement that someone else might discover halfway up their path.
Stories from the Peaks
Our favorite guide carries constellations like old songs. On clear nights, he names them between gentle meditations, reminding us we’re made of the same bright dust. Share your night-sky memory, and we’ll map our collective awe together.