Existence in the mountains

If there is any pure form of existence, it is in the mountains. Once you are in the invigorating, cold air, breathing in bucket loads of it, the life you have left behind, seems so unnecessarily busy and occupying too much mind space. You might have the most exciting of jobs or professions, but the ordinariness of mountainside existence makes that pale in comparison.

While trekking around the peaks you are relying on nothing but your wits and strength. The whys and hows of the daily grid don’t seem to matter at all. It really comes down to the basics of survival here – will we get to the next camp or not? There is a routine – get up, get ready, start the hike, huff and puff your way up and down, reach the next camp, unpack, relax, eat, sleep and repeat. From there it’s not hard to imagine how the thoughts grow headier. If your trek is not particularly risky or extreme, just by making your way in the outdoors your mind begins to wanders. You get to take in the continuum of time, of space, or a mindscape of thoughts as wild as the places we roam. How did the earth form, and so lovely too? How long have these mighty mountains stood? Did they ever meet the sea and its creatures? Do they speak to other mountains? And it will come down to us – the teeming mass of humanity – who is but a blip in the whole scheme of things, very dispensable, very negligible.

We will then get to our destination for the day and think about our days among these gentle giants, have our fill and then we will be gone.

The mountains will remain, saying in their mountain voices, “What was that all about?”