Mountain

I had spent the past hour climbing through the forest. The tall evergreens shaded the forest floor which stifled most of the undergrowth and left my path clear, but the way was steep and the air thin. Huffing and puffing, legs shaking, I broke into a clearing near the summit. The view stole what little breath I had remaining. The mountain dropped away into tumbling, verdant rapids and down into a sharp valley, only to thrust up into another peak cresting into meandering steel clouds. Everywhere I looked was cool, jade tones and shades of silver and cerulean. The wind had a bite and carried wisps of fog. I sat down on the grass to take in the gulf between me and the next mountain.

The world suddenly felt massive on that mountainside. On the approach, from the van on the road, the mountain fit nicely in the scenery. Contained. But now, perched like a flea on this overgrown leviathan, it felt wild, spilling far beyond my small conception. It felt ancient, monolithic, inscrutable, unmovable, irresistible, inevitable, holy. My mind struggled to comprehend what I perceived. As soon as I grasped a facet, it slipped away as I attempted to compute another. Soon I gave up. Instead of trying to quantify, I simply sat and waited to be absorbed into the mountain. To be unified with the grasses, dirt, pebbles, soaring slate cliffs, chilling mists, ruffling breeze, the space between and the colossal elementals disrupting the landscape.

Is this God? This overwhelming spot on the mountain. Does God look down on me nestled in the grass, brain short-circuiting, as I would look at the coffee mug beside my notebook? Does God see the cracks in the enamel, the curve of the handle? Does God feel the warmth of the coffee and the humidity of the steam wafting off its surface? Does God savor the scent and revel in the flavor as the liquid rushes across their metaphorical tongue?

What am I to God if I am but a mite to this mountain? If only I could pick up a mountain range and sip from such a construct. Maybe then I could conceive God.