The Hike

Hiking in the mountains is a strange feeling. You are absolutely focused on moving onward, reaching the destination, and so all your energy and all your concentration is spent on putting one step after the other. And then suddenly you stop to catch a breath and you realize how quiet everything is. And you are blown away by the beauty of the world and the stark loneliness of your place in it. It is not such a bad thing, this discovery that you are alone on your hike, for you feel suddenly, acutely- a connection with the world, and the marvel that is your existence in it. And you have this profound realization of being detached from the everyday familiarities of regular living. You breathe. You let the beauty sink in. You listen to the silence as you search for words and find none are needed. But then you notice the sky, and it is about to rain, and you have forgotten your umbrella. And you need to get back to shelter.

It’s a bit like life, really.

 Somehow, heights always remind us of the Infinite, of the Transcendent. Our earliest myths are about the sky. Somehow, the sky, so endless, so unreachable- so changeable with its innumerable designs of colours and shapes- clouds, storms, rainbows, sunrises and sunsets and yet so constant hints of a dimension beyond the reach of our terrestrial existence, we aspire towards it, but we can not stay there, for human beings were not meant to exist so removed from the earth. And so the wax melts, and we fall, and we gather those feathers again, for the next flight, for the next journey, for the next hike.
And sometimes, when we are up there, soaking into our solitude, immersed in the infinite beauty of the world, we long for a hand to hold in that silence, to find a kindred soul in a quiet moment to be alone with, for to be alone together is the silent song of love.

(Photograph copyright belongs to me)
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