They say with faith you can move all mountains, I don’t know for a fact if that is true. But I do know it is not as simple as just that. The incessant breeze of life is ever so changing it’s hard to stay steadfast, let alone move a mountain. The tide pools at the bottom of life’s mountain swirl with riches, hunger, sadness, joy, and wonder in between my painted toes every minute of every day trying to suck me into the riptides of life’s hurdles.
As a child I believed I could truly move mountains, creating them out of mole hills some will say. But I think that we as children are fast learners, quick to adapt to any mountain or any size and take it on with full force. You see me laughing my way up as I soon slide bottom down with my fingers reaching up towards the endless sea of clouds in the air. I see faces and animals watching me hidden in those clouds. I feel like I am flying through the blistering cold and I smile ear to ear as the wind whips my frozen little cheeks. Mom and dad slide in tow right behind always, catching me if I should stray from the correct path down that mountain. Joyous screams and hoots and hollers as the magic of being young flows from child to parent over the mountain ride. The energy in our bones tell us we are alive and loving life.
As I blossom into teen hood the mountain suddenly seems to triple in size, becoming a seemingly impossible mission to peak, yet I do peak it. In fact I am suddenly pumped and ready to tackle the whole world. Feeling infinite and curious. With each step of confidence, it is often three steps back as I learn life isn’t always a smooth sail of a ride. Actually it can be rather bumpy at times, with obstacles and surprises around every turn. I whisk through the snow as it often sprays in my face, bumping over the snowy moguls in and out of love, plowing the moguls in their way down with new found independence and pride. Musical ambition feeds my soul as my hike turns into a dance of uncontrollable sways as I wiggle up the mountain of life with style.
I all too soon grow into a young woman ready again to take on that mountain. Feeling a new sense of self awareness. I awake early and find my spot on that mountain and call it my own. I am at one with God and feed my soul with daily knowledge and love. I am becoming who I was meant to be. It is becoming a spiritual climb as well now over this mountain of life. Now I must hunker down and do exactly what needs to be done. I can climb that mountain with ease as my babies cling onto my back tightly, or saddled contently on my hips. I do grow tired some days from the mountain climb but I can never give up. I believe I must show my children how life’s mountain climb is done and how splendid it feels when we climb over life’s mountains together, hand in hand. It is well worth every step to stand for that moment in time at the top and feel life’s abundant grace shining into our dark eyes. Often I journey with the company of my soul mate as we relish traveling over the mountain hills as one. He pushes me when I grow week, strengthens my heart when it freezes over from the mountainous chill, and he picks me up when I tumble down that infamous mountain. Encouragement is what carries all of us through, allowing us to look at each new day with a loving heart. We learn to complement each other on the climb, learning about each other as we venture up. With one kiss atop the summit I am swept down the mountain again in a rush of glorious love.
Now moving on later in life, I am the middle aged woman and I can only climb half way up that mountain now before turning back realizing I simply cannot climb as high as I once could. I am okay with that, thankful for even the smallest climb. I hold on to never ending dreams and cherished memories of adventures through the years past. The view and tingle of love that runs through my blood every time close my eye lids and reminisce. Life. All up and down that mountain I traveled with others, sometimes alone. I finally know life’s mountain like the back of my hand. I sit content often in the valley of the mountain, watching restfully as all ages scatter about and begin their mountain climb of life and disappear through the sunset gliding down the other side of the mountain like angles. Someone is watching over them, I can feel it. My children always meet me in the valley after their climbs and we talk. How I love their voices echoing in that mountain valley.
Now an old delicate woman, my climbing days are over and life’s mountain journey is almost complete. I can still see that mountain, though only now through my bedroom window. I can’t make out the people hiking up or sliding down quite as clear, but I know they are there. My adventures turn into dreams as I spend most of my time resting. My mountain climb has become getting my feet to the floor in the morning. My visits with my children still brighten my day, and their voices and chuckles fill the air that turns stagnant once they leave. My soul mate has passed over the mountain, never to return as I await the day we will once again be reunited. I watch every night as the glow of the mountain afar disappears into an enchanted sunset high above. I hear and whispers from the past that fades away into the pending glistening starry night as darkness settles in. I breathe deep and let me heart swell with memories of life’s amazing mountain.