Cutting alcohol out of my life these last few years has definitely inhibited my thinking. By that I mean I think less. And I think less interesting thoughts (to me at least). Going into the wilderness alone is a little like getting drunk. Both activities take one beyond some edge, a crossing of boundaries of sorts.In the wild, danger creeps close with every solitary footstep in, while with drink the inhibitions fly, leaving us alone with the raw pulse of living. Both are a bit scary, reckless even, threatening regrets, hinting at worse. But wilderness and alcohol are catalysts too. A fast approach to a dangerous edge with a yawning, incredible vista both real and illusionary. These thoughts scare me for their reality and indifferent challenge. An attractive venue for gainful consideration as much a fearful venue for loss.