Sometimes I grow weary of the days, with all their fits and starts.
I want to climb some old gray mountain, slowly, taking
the rest of my lifetime to do it....
I want to look back at everything, forgiving it all,
and peaceful, knowing the last thing there is to know.
All that urgency! Not what the earth is about!...
In ten thousand years, maybe, a piece of the mountain will fall.
As so often happens when reading Mary's poem, the coincidence of her words with my life events startles me. For instance, just this morning I was reviewing my itinerary for my trip to Guyana next week, and there in the middle of it is an overnight hike that gains 6,000 feet in elevation and ends at Jordan falls.
Then not even 5 minutes later I read this poem about a slow, long climb up a mountain.
That image of me, walking up a winding path of a mountain path with nothing to do but to look, think, remember, and place one foot in front of the other brings me solace this Monday morning.
How did Mary know that we ache for the sense of eternal wholeness that a long slow hike or a long slow life can bring?
Do you have this ache too? How do you respond to it?