Life and mountains

Sometimes it feels like we're all out on a walk, all of us, trekking across some great distance. All have our own roots, and most of us have a vague direction we're heading in, but mostly it's like some great herd criss crossing the plains and mountains in no particular order. Some are in a furious hurry, rushing to get to some imagined point, and others dawdling, just walking wherever the mood takes them.

And sometimes we find ourselves near others, perhaps a similar starting point, or destination, but it suits us to walk together a while, share food and thoughts, help each other over the difficult bits, and make the journey a little more pleasant.

But sometimes one of us just needs to sit awhile, and rest, or just take in the view. It is strenuous, this hike we're on, full of unseen holes and large rocks, steep rocky hills and wide fast flowing rivers. The views are sometimes incredible, and sometimes dreary, but ever changing sky and land, seemingly endless.

And we sit, perhaps chew on an apple, or roll a cigarette .. there isn't actually any hurry, is there? But you sit and survey, and remember the last part of the journey, rugged mountains and treacherous paths, the friends you've walked with and those you left behind. Is nothing worse than some then berating you for abandoning them? Or accusing you now of giving up? Or telling you of their fears of walking alone?

What is it with us humans that we constantly need re-assurance from others? As if forgetting the sun rise ceremony would prevent the sun from rising? As if when a day passed without some magic ritual the world would implode? Sometimes i truly despair ... these constant expectations we impose upon the world. As if the world actually cared.

Only we care, you and i, and raging at each other over the emptiness of the rest can never resolve the pain we create inside ... because we rail at them, but we want to be them, we want to be like them, we want to be liked by them. We care, you and i, but caring is listening, and listening is caring, and caring is feeling and goddammit feelings hurt.

I sit quietly awaiting dusk, savouring the smoke and hot african afternoon air, listening for the silence, patiently hoping that the rest will find a quiet space long enough to see what i am seeing, to hear what they can't hear yet.

I'm sitting down for a while, and you can all sit with me, plenty of space out here. But for gods sake stop making all that noise. I'm here, in the flesh. Ranting about the idiot over the hill is spreading the stupid, that's all it's doing. Stop that, bad for us all.

peace and love and quiet to you all