The Mountain
You begin in the forest. It is probably cold. It is likely to be dark at first too. The path is poorly defined or non- existent, you might even need to make your own, in fact if this mountain is worth climbing at all, you will. No-one has ever thought to climb this thing before, not from this direction at least. You get lost. It seemed like progress at the time but it was not. Well, getting lost seemed like it was not progress, but at least you know what getting lost is like now and you’ll be more familiar with it next time. So that is still progress of a sort. You find treasures you never expected along the way: frogs everywhere, a lizard, that impossibly enormous gnarled old tree, the mossy boulder you scrambled onto to eat your lunch. It is glorious here, except when it isn’t. You could wander here forever it seems, in this rambling lowland forest with its intricate beauty, unexpected discoveries, endless bogs and impossible thickets.
Yet, you have a gnawing question… there must be something else going on? Some kind of focal point for my effort?…. And just as you think that, you notice that over here the ground is rising slightly, consistently, undeniably… and you faintly sense an accumulation of some kind of presence off in that direction and upwards. If not a final answer to your question of where to go, at least it is a place to point that question for a while. This growing presence is subtle and undeniable, it has mass and gravity of its own, it whispers to aspects of your being that have been lying undisturbed for some time. So you head that way. You begin to climb. It could be that the climb is short and you are popped quickly out of the forest onto a jutting chin of rock and it could be that it takes you a long long time to climb this thing. The ridge you follow could take you somewhere completely different to where you thought you were going. You might find a vantage point along the way that reveals a different peak … do you abandon this one in favour of that? At times it will be hard. Your feet will hurt, you will get hot, or you will get torn at by winds with that particular kind of searing wildness that is only found on Mountains, the kind of winds that can blow you off such places if you do not keep low, focused and sure of foot. This is no time to think about where you are not. This route requires and hones access to all the resources you can muster from wherever they may come. Hand to rock, foot to earth, this is reality and to stray from it is to perish here.
And whether the Mountain is climbed in a few great strides or 10,000 small ones, the top is a rare and special place. This is not a place to take off your boots and hurl them away. It is not a place to pitch your tent and live out your days in the glory of the summit. You will need your boots to get down! Mountain tops are not places to dwell, they are not friendly, hospitable places. You are fortunate to be able to stand here, in this pause in the weather. It will not last. Briefly you stand. At the top. With the cool air slowly drying the sweat on your face, you chew absentmindedly on nuts and dried fruit. You see with clear eyes, the world that lies about you. The first thing you pick out of the vista is a lake you are yet to swim in… the forest surrounding it looks ancient… your eye traces the features, from peak to ridge to peak to valley to river, to ridge, and on and on. Your soul sings in the presence of such infinite wonders both seen and unseen. And there is a tugging in your chest too and a wet pressure behind your eyes… for you can not be with it all. You can not embrace every tree, sit with every boulder, lie in every stream. Much will be missed. So much will go undone, for the endless magic and mystery in front of you stands in stark contrast to your human limits.
It has happened again. You thought you were in love with all this before, yet now there are whole new layers to it. Again you have fallen in love with climbing and you have fallen in love with your world, with being alive and in a body. The sweat has dried on that body now, the air has chilled, you’ve eaten half your nut mix and you are suddenly aware that you are standing there, stunned, with your mouth agape. The day is not done and you still need to find a way down and shelter for the night. The summit is many things, but a place to linger it is not, a place to gloat it is not, a place to stop it is not. It is a place to be. A vantage point. A clarity point. A place to fall in love. And then a point from which to move to the next adventure, which starts with navigating the other side of this one.