Tiny.
Insignificant.
Irrelevant.
Weak.
Pushing the whispers out of his mind, he lifted up on one arm and gazed at the landscape that was chiding him for taking flesh as a vessel again.
Hush, he said to the mountain.
With more determination than ever, he got up from his rest beside the hillside stream that was dancing it’s way over, through, and around huge quartzite and granite boulders that formed multiple small waterfalls and cascades on it’s way to the river in the valley below. Each pool was a little oasis with frogs, snakes, fish, insects, and many other small creatures seeking the cool air and life-giving water that was becoming more and more scarce as the years passed.
With a grateful heart and a word of thanks to the Source for that stream, he gathered his belongings and began his ascent to the top of the ancient mountain again.
His praise instrument thumped against his side and back as he lifted his foot over a fallen Sycamore that had given in to gravity. Sadness overwhelmed him for a moment as the tree laid across the stream. Most of it was still alive as part of it’s roots still made a desperate grab at the soil and water between the broken, jagged rocks that seemed to be tumbling down the hillside along with the stream and waterfalls.
Careful to walk around a spiderweb he cleared the tree and heard the first sounds of rushing water. He decided to leave the creek and finish the climb by walking through the woods. Near the larger falls at the top it was easier to leave the stream, where the rocks, logs, and lack of a trail made the final part of the climb not impossible, but much more difficult. Carrying a sad resonation inside his being over the downed Sycamore, he became anxious to reach the Tree at the top of the mountain, where he could play Her a healing song once again.
He began to Climb.
Intense warmth bathed his body and face as he rose over the last boulder and saw the huge altar shaped rock before him sitting in the middle of the water. The stream had lost form at the top of the mountain as it’s cool water underwent a transformation for just a moment while it meandered across bare granite that abruptly ended the forest and stream alike. How the altar rock sat where it did was no mystery to him. He himself had sat in the same sun many times on that very rock and pondered it’s origin. Finally he had found a sharp crag that matched the shape of the altar rock further up the mountain. He knew that rain and torrents of water over the years had moved the huge boulder down the granite slab until it perched like a sentinal at the very top of the main waterfall. That it was altar shaped and quartz encrusted he decided was just a nice touch from the Mother. She was eternal, and knew outside of time-space that he would visit this place often. She loved all of Her children, and he was aware that there were many places just like this one that were created for beings like him. He would become Her when he would visit, and She borrowed his senses each time he ascended the mountain. It was one of the few places on earth he felt Reverence.
Like always, his first thing to do was Unload.
He set his water bottle, guitar, tobacco, pipe, and his bag of recording devices on the altar-like rock. Not as a sacrifice, but in mere convenience. He didn’t revere the rock, but appreciated it’s beauty just as it was. Many would have been content to lurk around the rock and not explore the the huge slab of pink granite that extended for a bit then turned back into a forest creek again that flowed parallel with the horizon along the ridge of the mountain. He and Jesus had walked the creek looking for it’s source once, only to give up amazed that water could be flowing the way it was so near the top of the mountain. They jokingly wondered if it ran up one side of the mountain and down the other.
The angel grabbed his empty water bottle and filled it with water flowing near the base of the altar rock while thanking the Mother. He kept his head raised while doing so, not to watch for danger, but to find something he knew was hidden on the granite slab which defined the side of the mountain.
Removing his sandals he waded carefully across the shallow pool the altar rock sat in, mindful of the minnows and Gerridae at his feet.
In a small scooped out indentation in the slab, where time and water had put their own fingerprints on the mountain, swam a family of tadpoles.
Very little water was left in the small pool, which was only feet away from the larger one that the altar rock sat in.
He had pondered at an earlier time when Uriel had Climbed with him, whether or not to move the tadpoles to the main pool. Uriel reminded him of the Balance and they decided to just add cool water slowly to the tadpoles little world while saying a prayer to the Mother, knowing that she had given birth to them there on that barren rock in Her wisdom.
After transferring the Water again to the tadpoles, the angel slowly made his way through the shallows, and refilled the bottle in the shade of a Cedar that grew at the edge of the pool. He had been watching this little Tree grow for 20 years, and now it stood very near Altar Rock, providing cool shade to both visitors and fish.
Taking a drink for himself, he didn’t hesitate about the quality of the Water. He had been summoned, and knew that She would protect his vessel on this Climb.
After quenching his thirst, he made sure his feet were bare and crossed the shallow pool, filling his water bottle once again and made his way up the slab slowly while taking in the majestic beauty before him.
Sitting in the middle of a huge crack in the granite slab further up the mountain and surrounded by bench sized chunks of granite, grew his Tree.
She was thirsty and he knew that his little bottle couldn’t begin to provide Her with enough water, but still he poured it’s contents on Her roots while inhaling the magical fragrance of Her needles. He sat down next to Her on a boulder, and with lips unmoving, he turned his face into the sun and raised his hands toward the Source.
Then…he began to Sing.