THE MOUNTAIN JOURNEY

Aligning and conducting oneself on the grasslands.

Amidst the ridges of sand and driftwood stripped of bark.

Crossing the bridge,

With the memory of what one learnt higher up.

The goal to the mountaintop is not

The glamour of some iridescent light.

It’s about the great granite terraces in sun and shadow.

It’s about the sacred encounters on the ridges

The journey is not about

Getting away from this world.

It is about facing those glaciers.

Times when one feels utterly challenged

Aghast with the chill of not wanting to persevere

The mountain top vision is different.

It’s inviting and life-giving.

It’s not about who resides here,

But what we ourselves have left behind in coming here.

What is above knows what is below

But what is below does not know what is above

One climbs; one sees.

When one can no longer see, one can at least still know.

In no way can I take credit for this wisdom.

It is the gift of the holy mountain

The vision is brief

I want to hang on; stay on top forever.

Yet I must come down the mountain

To continue my journey:

Of Christ shaped encounters with others.

I have to let go.