An Allegory:
I cannot recall a single
instance I can point to where I had first decided to climb the mountain.
Looking back, there seemed to be no epiphany, no moment of clarity or
certainty. It seemed to come upon me bit by bit, something that accumulated
slowly until it had built itself into something within me that demanded
attention. At some point I acquired a kernel of longing within me that
attracted like minded sentiments. Around this kernel, ideas and ambitions began
to wrap themselves the way a pearl is built upon a grain of sand. Evidently, there
was some romantic notion of the mountain and man’s relation to it that appealed
to the imagination of a young child. If you lean towards the metaphysical, then
perhaps that seed was always in me and that it was destiny leading me since
birth. At any rate, while there is no particular moment that I can say was the
defining one, there are memories of moments that moved me in the direction my
life has taken.
I have no memory of
seeing the mountain for the first time; it has been there always in my life and
in the lives of all those who live or ever have lived in the village of my
birth. It towers in the western skyline, defying and denying for much of the
day even the mighty sun. It is a boarder to all that lies beyond it, as
defining and limiting to our pursuits as is the ground beneath or the sky
above. But I can remember moments of seeing the mountain as something other
than a backdrop to my existence, as something more than a limiter. I was quite
a young child when I heard stories of the mountain and it significance to our
world. I remember listening to a group of elders sitting around my parents
table telling stories of the mountain. They spoke in reserved tones about the
tales that they had heard, many which had been passed down from generations
long forgotten. It was then that the idea of reaching the top first came to me
as a goal worthy of pursuit. This mountain, as we all knew, was where the gods
dwelt, or at least it touched the heavens where they made their home. It was
taller than any other peak in all the world. It was jokingly said that even the
mighty sun would scratch its hind side when it attempted to climb its peak. From
the stories, I became impressed with the greatness of the mountain, and somehow
the idea occurred to me what a great quest it would be to conquer it. No, not
conquer, that is too foolish a world. Any man who scales a mountain is still
but a man, a transient speck compared to the immensity and permanence of a
mountain. Nevertheless, the thought of reaching the height of the mountain
appeared to me equal to reaching the heights of human accomplishment.
Another moment comes to
mind, the time when I heard that there were those who had already made the
attempt to reach the summit. Many returned unsuccessful, many never returned at
all. The legends also spoke of those who had reached the top and had returned
to tell the tale. Some claimed to have seen the gods, others said they received
revelation and instruction from the gods themselves.
It was clear that many of
those who claimed to have reached the top were either liars or madmen. They
preached things that made no sense or, worse yet, their words were meant to
enrich their own power, prestige, or wealth. Still others were enigmas who went
their own way in silence, or were driven away from their village when what they
had to say was too unpopular. So although the legends had much to say on
matters concerning the mountain, no one could say with any certainty what one
could find there.
As I grew to adulthood,
this question still possessed me. While some shared my interest, most among my
village seemed quite unconcerned. Their work and family and holidays seemed to
fill their time and interest well enough. I, however, gravitated towards people
of like mind, and we discussed together what we had heard of the stories and
legends relating to the mountain. We devoured whatever source we could find on
the subject, and conjectured on the rest. Until, one day, the inevitable
occurred; having exhausted all other forms of information, we decided that we
would ourselves have to make the climb if we were ever to gain more insight.
After long months of careful planning and preparation, we set out to find the
answers to our questions, a small group of true believer with only that which
we could carry. I can still clearly remember that day as we stood at the foot
of the mountain and looked straight up at what we were about to embark upon. We
had already lost three of our members before leaving the village, people who
had decided they were needed where they were. Two more left us while still at
the base, claiming the thunderclouds and lightning that encircled the
mountain-top at that moment to be an ill omen. I myself almost went with them,
not because of any omen, but because of the fear that clenched at my stomach at
the thought of the trials that surely lay ahead.
The first part of the
climb was perhaps the purest, for we neither looked toward what lay ahead nor
what we left behind us. So dedicated were we with the climb that everything
else was blocked from our sight—absolutely everything, including, paradoxically
enough, the goal itself. It was too far away and our immediate concerns too
pressing. Perhaps it drove us at some deep level, but it did not enter our
conscious minds. It was almost as if the end of our journey were a thing we
felt pushing at us from behind, if that can make sense. But whatever was
working in our hearts, our minds and bodies were intensely focused on the tasks
at hand. Any great accomplishment requires this disciplined approach to the
task at hand, and we pushed ourselves to limits we did not know existed, which
only inspired us to push further. To be young and to experience the feeling of
being alive is a sweet feeling. To feel alive and to have a purpose and a goal
to that life is better still.
But it is human nature
that from time to time we stop to take a look around to assess where we are
going, where we have been. We first halted from our labors upon reaching a vast
plateau. We had known of its existence all our lives, had seen it from down
below, but had no idea how huge it was. My first impulse was to look down
rather than up to measure our progress. It is more encouraging to see what one
has accomplished that to see what one still has to accomplish.
Looking down, we were
amazed at how far we had come, how separated we were from our village that
looked so small down below. The village below did not look as we had always
thought. The distance seemed to rob it of its distinctions. And looking at last
towards each other, we noticed that we too had changed. But it did not matter
for us because we had taken so much of what we held dear with: friends, family,
dreams, purpose.
Looking around we
realized how different the land was around us. The air was so much purer at
this height, the birds and animals more innocent of man’s threat to them. The
madness and injustice that can exist amongst mankind seemed not to touch us
upon this sacred mountain. So beautiful was this plain we had reached that when
it was time to continue our journey, many of us wished to stay where they were.
“This is good enough for us”, they said. “We have found something beautiful,
and need ask for nothing more.” Whether they were right or wrong in their
decision was not a question that came into my mind at this time. Had I stopped
to think, I may have wondered whether they were daunted by the climb yet to
come. For we had as yet only finished a small leg of our journey, and our
effort and sacrifice had been great. Or, had I stopped to think, I may have
wondered if they were not right in staying in this beautiful place. To be given
all this and not be content was perhaps arrogant, and arrogance unto the gods
is not a thing to be treated lightly. Perhaps, if I had thought, it was a fear
of what they would find if they continued—a fear of failure—that made them
decide to stay.
But I did not stop to
think. My life I regarded as a small thing compared to my purpose. I was driven
by this purpose, and was renewed by my rest in this idyllic place. For if such
beauty could be found so low, imagine what awaits us as we ascend to the realm
of the gods.
And so those of us who
wished to continue our journey left our friends in this place. It was not easy
saying goodbye, because we had already shared so much in dreams, work, struggle,
and love. Those of us who continued felt no blame or bitterness towards those
who stayed, anymore than we did to those down below who never desired to
accompany us at all. It was our vision; those who did not share it had their
own.
Of those who left the
plain, there were those who turned back when the way became too hard, the
obstacles seemingly impassable. Some perished in the climb. Some died saving
others. Some escorted back down the mountain those who were too injured or ill
to continue. We the survivors could do nothing to honor the dead but continue
onwards. Our ranks continued to thin, until I alone said farewell to the last
of my companions, a dear friend too weak and injured to endure. But my mind was
set; for all of us, it was up to me to achieve the dream or perish in the
attempt. Although alone, I knew no loneliness, for my vision was my comfort, my
hopes were my warmth. Working without looking above or below me, I climbed. And
in time I neared the summit, the place of countless stories and legends. For
all I knew, I alone of all mortals had ever reached this height. And there
above the entire world I found…
Nothing.
At the top of the summit
I stood and looked at the heavens from this elevated spot. But to my complete
disillusionment, the heavens were no closer than they had ever been. The sun
was no larger, its radiance no warmer than it was to any human on the face of
the world.
The force of my despair
fell upon me. All that I was was pulled out from under me. For all there was of
me had become but a surge toward this moment, and all my life had become false.
Ah, how much better to be my companions, who did not live to see this moment,
or to have stayed with those on the plain who could still aspire to more. Far
better to be like those who had never felt the need to climb, who contented
themselves with legend and myth and daydreaming. I alone had no hope, because I
had killed hope for myself. With all the desire and all of the strength that I
had, I had succeeded only in killing hope. I raged against the gods because
they did not exist, or else were forever above me, indifferent to my plight. I
wept like an abandoned child, feeling my total isolation. Overcome with
emptiness I sat down at the edge of this, the top of the world, to look down at
a world full of deluded people.
And looking down I saw
all that was, stretched out before me. From the height to which I had ascended,
the word was quite different from the one I had always known. I saw the world
free from myopia, free from my prejudice and the ignorance of those who had
taught me from the arrogance of their small beliefs. I saw a world without the
borders that I had seen on every map I had ever looked at, a constant flow of
forces unbound by the constraints that our tiny minds try to force upon the
real. I saw man’s place in the world, so small. I saw lands never before seen
by man, awaiting his arrival. I saw below me my friends I had left on the
plain, indistinguishable from all the other people who lived on this earth. For
the first time in my life I saw it all at once as one who is both distanced
from and one with the world. I was the world’s eyes, regarding itself.
I sat and watched the
beauty of all that is until the sun’s rays faded and darkness covered
everything. And when no rays were left to aid my vision, I began immediately to
descend, to share with others the vision I had glimpsed.
