Old spirits, intermingling where each individual peak joins the body, but distinct. Some ranges are old sentries and some are tougher, more active, very awake and very alive and not gentle with you so much as real with you. You have to learn to coexist with them, you can’t just stomp all over. The landscape, everything will prevent you from just tramping everywhere like humans do. They’re are blanketed in life and growing things and history and they don’t necessarily mind us, but they are perfectly fine without us, too. Their old spirits that can be neither reached nor broken, lofty and steady and strong.
Sometimes I think I can almost feel them, like I am so sure that they’re real and not just some imagining of my own, like they know me. Sometimes I swear the mountains call me. I picture this place, where I’m looking out under the moon and peak after peak after peak after peak rolling away into the night, absolutely still but so PRESENT, and I don’t notice the smell or the clean air or the chill or the season really, just the image and the feeling it brings.
If spirits can wander, if they have to stay on earth and we don’t get to be reunited with our loves ones, if heaven is a lie and if we just end up as whispers on the winds and a memory of consciousness, I’d like to go to the mountains, and spend eternity just watching over the peaks as they cascade away over the horizon into forever, a timeless whisper in the rocks.
I don’t want to dare driving it
I don’t want to be somebody’s passenger
I don’t want a hotel
I don’t know how to pitch a tent
I do not want to visit a town or place
I do not want to be alone out there
I want to stand somewhere with a sense of security at my back
and all the world in front of me under the moon
in the impossible dark of endless trees
rolling away like frozen rock-hewn waves
and look at the mountains
under the stars.
I prayed for discipline, and I got karate.
Good, good answer. I’m thankful.
I think that was directed at the entity I call “God” who acts nothing like the Judeo-Christian God so far as I can tell. I have always been cared for and guided and answered by that entity, with one glaring exception which I have yet to understand, but which may have been for a loved one’s benefit.
Which leaves Isis.
I miss her, but I’m so conflicted. Hanging out with monotheists makes me feel like I’m doing my life wrong, like I’m handling my soul wrong. That, compounded with my lack of self-responsibility and apathy, have kept me away from her for so long now I can’t even deny it anymore.