Ingredient 18 - Mountains

Ah, yes...Mountains.  The sight of them has always quickened my pulse and opened my heart.  It was, in fact, nothing but my love for the majesty of a mountain that earned it a place on The List of my life's "ingredients."  So what more is there really to say about the matter?

Then, I thought about my approach to the "Sunset" post, and I considered accepting the same self-challenge in composing the lyrical wonder that is the mountain...except, under the weight of one major difference.  With "Sunsets," I endeavored to imagine which words I would use - for someone that had never beheld the gift of sight - to describe the immense beauty and inspired vision of our sun dropping below the watery edge of our world.  With "mountains," I will attempt to do the same, only this time I will challenge myself further by seeking a way to bring the colossal dream scape that is a mountain into reality for someone that has neither beheld sight...nor sound. 

Unable to hear my words; unable to see my gestures?  How could I possibly deliver the proverbial package to this one? 

After much thought, I think I have figured out the perfect way to effectively portray the inspiration bequeathed to us by the mountain.  I believe I have uncovered a profound reactionary design that lends itself to the majesty and metaphor of the mountain. 


And it goes like this... 


I would take the person - let's call her Helen Schmeller for all intents and purposes - by the hand and lead her up the long and steep mountain path...on foot.  We would take periodical rests against the evergreens that would surely excite her sense of smell. 


We would take the time to lightly tumble and play, as the feel of the soft snow in contrast to the hard rock beneath would undoubtedly bring life to her sense of touch, as it changed from smooth to jagged and everything in between. 


We would make our way up the mountain in this fashion; taking it one slow, steady, and comfortable step at a time...moving in and out of shadow and sunlight, absorbing the differential sensation of cold and warmth in a matter of mere moments.  Ah, such is life.


Finally, we would find ourselves on the precipice, where I would encourage her to take all the time she desired to breath the clean, thin air.  I'm almost certain she would feel inclined to spread her arms - recognizing them as the wings they are - in acceptance of the moment, humbly accepting an embrace by Mother Earth and Father Sky...a Family reunion. 


As it is with the ocean, the mountain brings us closer to god, and there isn't a need for sight or sound to feel that kind of wonder.

But, also - as it is with the ocean - the mountain is a testament to life: unrelinquishing in its sermon.  So, it is at this point - shortly after her slow dance with majestic peace and  spiritual validation - that I would push her.  Yes.  I would shove her off of certain ground, knowing that as she tumbled head over ass, stumbling and clamoring her way back down, she would do so with the skill imparted to her by the gift of other heightened senses, and by faith.  By the time she reached the mountain's base, she would have a complete understanding of its size, its sanctimonious beauty, and its paradox. 

As for me, I would take the lift back down and wait for her as I sipped a nice cup of java...knowing, of course, that my days of being pushed down "the mountain" are far from over...but neither are my days of dancing at its summit.

Ingredient 17- Mother

During the month of April this year, I interrupted the flow of my listed ingredients to participate in the A to Z Blog Challenge, which was a gosh darn hoot.  However, try as I did not to duplicate any of my List items whilst in the throes of my alphabetical hoorah, I failed.  Inadvertantly, I wrote about my inspiration for "mother" in A to Z: Letter K (it's a real ray of sunshine; you should check it out).

Aaaaaanyhoo, rather than go down that dark path again - with its dank over-hanging vegetation just waiting for the chance to suck my soul dry - I'm going to address "ingredient 17" another way.  A whole other way... 

Today, I'm acknowledging a mother of another kind: Mother Earth.

A hot, fiery center determining polarity-
Synchronous movement
with an emotional satellite
that changes with every sunset.

Do you doubt it?
We are made in her image.

A river of magnetism & turbulent odds
Set valleys at rest
between dueling fault lines
and pressure points of swift change.

Do you doubt it?
We are made in her image.

A vast layer atop seething vulnerability-
A course of destruction
only sometimes denied by way
of the cracks sealed of water and ice.

Do you doubt it?

The smallest part of her foundation
is all we ever see...

We are made in her image.


And,

Lingering fools in love
with reflective surfaces
forget why they linger at all
under stars that could crush them
even before burning them;
but instead, the stars:
they choose to shine, and light the way.

Pray child, pray...
and usurp your usurpers,
leaving left only the clues placed
just where The Mother birthed you;
Ever in labor she is, on your behalf-
where every good mother stays.

Though she, too, is born to
a womb, guarded.

The living Center and the Glory of Siblings past
await you, but still, beware the poisoned arrow...
the poison and the archer having not yet met.

Do you doubt it?
Made in her Image,
we shall see it with her Eyes.