I gaze longingly in to the heart of the mountains, the same as I do the soul of the sea. The mountains, they are not unlike the sea as you may think. Both will take you on a journey to find yourself, all the while making certain you know the world does not revolve around you. Perhaps the biggest difference is that in sailing you go where the wind blows, and in the mountains you choose where to pitch your tent.
And so, we pitch a tent...
We find a grassy meadow, bountiful with wild flowers, lined with spruce trees stretching to the sky, and the summit of the mountain peering down on us, sure to watch us while we sleep. The sun turns the mountain a deep color of rust before she tucks in behind a distant range. With her, fades our warmth, and so we snuggle deep into our sleeping bags and wait for the morning when she will peer over the mountain and wake us from the cold of night.
Whether it be on the ocean or a mountain, the nights for me are long. My mind wanders, and beyond the paper thin walls of the tent lay monsters ready to snatch me up. Lions and tigers and bears oh my! Well just bears and moose, but oh my the same. The cold keeps me hidden inside my sleeping bag, but from within I can’t hear the outside world to know what is coming my way. And so I endure the chill on my face, lay still, and listen to the night. In the wee hours of morning a branch breaks. My heart races but I don’t let out a breath. I hear the clash of an antler and then a snort. The cold no longer makes me shiver, for my racing heart breaks me into a sweat.
I wait for morning.
And when she comes all fears subside, I am once again in my happiest of places. I thank my God, the God that made the mountains, for another day. He draws me closer. He speaks to me through His creation. He teaches me both to fear Him and that I am loved by Him. My peace, my joy, my love, they are in the mountains and in the oceans of this great big world, and I, I am such a tiny, tiny part within it.
