Morning ocean musings

There I stood, still in the shadow of all that was man and human, before the sun could warm itself, looking out at an ocean – swelling like a heart full of love;
hoping that something bigger, something more than what I had become would rise out of its waters to comfort me
but all I felt was the sea spit in my face as it broke its answer over the edge
And as I stood I wondered if there was a crustacean or clown fish on the floor of this swelling heart that wondered, hoped and felt the same as I…

Advertisements

Mount Ego

It took me four years just to muster up the courage to meet the foot of the mountain.

Its vastness was intimidating and I thought it impossible to conquer.

I have trekked and hiked up large hills and mountains before,

each bringing its struggles and there were times I thought I could no longer endure

yet here I am.

Those paled in comparison to this.

Two years and still I’m climbing, hiking and struggling

yet progress has been made.

The higher I get the harder it is for me to breathe and I lose sight.

My legs ache, heart sore and home nowhere.

It has been so long, I am forgetting where and what home is,

yet still I continue.

Home is made each night on the side of the mountain at varying altitudes.

The cold is so bitter that I wish to become ice

just so I don’t have to feel the difference.

In the dead of night when light, wind and temperature work against me

I find myself unable to sleep.

So I reminisce.

I think back to how it was before the journey.

The mountain I knew was always there, I just never bothered to conquer it.

As I reminisce I feel a vortex in my chest, a black hole, an unplugged drain

swallowing the bubbles in the bath and it makes me feel seven years old again

and I am being scolded.

On this mountain there is no double-bunk-blanket-fort to go hide inside, cry and pity myself.

The sun eventually rises but it does little for the icy cold and bitterness on the tip of my tounge

until I decide I am up and about, moving and burning.

Still I am here.

I am so sure that the summit is close, but I will never be certain till I arrive.

What I am certain of is the higher I climb the more I see

and the more I see, the less there is of me.

I am a speck on Mount Ego.

The mountain is vast yet the horizons stretch further and vaster than any mountain

and I question “why?”

The answer simply is that there is more to existence than just you and I and these mountains and hills we traverse

and to truly comprehend this, one has to journey step by step,

higher altitude to higher altitude

to witness that which we are merely a speck a part of.

Perhaps the summit is not my immediate goal,

perhaps the steadily broadening view is what I need

to make order out of this chaos.