An herb walk through the high Alps

I've been away from technology for a few weeks. Wandering the Alps, valleys where I grew up, in deep old forests carpeted with wild bilberries and up above the treeline in full view of the Dolomites. I've walked some really well-worn paths, visiting with the plants along the way and thinking about consciousness, presence, perception. These mountains are us - or, at the very least, I can feel the boundaries of my consciousness bleed into the the rocks and forests, the trail becoming more than a footpath, the walk becoming a habit the whole ecology has practiced for a long, long time. Do you know what I mean? Mountain telepathy, Euphrasia mind-meld, or really just finally resting in the place where "I" really feels like a composite of everything here.