At the Mountain Top

I take in heaven, views of it at least. Perhaps for the twentieth time. From my favourite mountain top. I always felt heavenly here, it was a feeling, not a conscious perception of a dimension or state that I know anything of, no one knows perhaps. Supremely calm, reposed, the mind momentarily in profound tranquility. A milky ocean of cloud laps hungrily at my perch from below me. I can only inhale it with my breath, with my eyes, and with my consciousness with equal intensity. The medley of bird chatter, some recognizable and some not, the lonely call of a Falcon, the swoosh of leaves in the early morning breeze, the buzz of a honey hungry bee, completes the mood and silence. Nothing is out of place, nature is precise. Divinity crouches in it. It has to.

This perch lies in the highlands of Sri Lanka, one of many. I’m sure the story is the same for all the others too. It’s bound to be the same for any summit anywhere on the planet. But this one is special, for me. I have climbed it from the age of ten on numerous visits. It’s a relatively easy two-hour hike one way. As I negotiated the homely slopes, precipices, valleys and the tall patana to the top, the ghosts accompanied me. They accompanied me as a child, as a teenager, as a young adult. Now as an adult, I imagine them in the wind, the clouds, the mist. I want to hug them once more, but I can only feel them, the tears visit me. It’s an encounter now, never an ambush.

I can sense the world below me, below the milky waves. I can lord over it, but rather nature lords over me. I feel little, insignificant. Being belittled feels great. I’m in my comfort zone. Nature or the Divine is in total possession of me. Below the clouds, spreads my reality, which I must return to. But I want to be here forever. I want to keep this peace forever. The clouds disperse, lush shades of green, brown, yellow, red are unveiled below. The golden disc beams down from clear blue skies. The bird chatter quietens down a touch. The winds get crazier. Then the mists start soaring again, it gets cooler. The sun starts nodding. The clouds begin to rally yet again. I’m still meditating and I am not even aware. A sudden gust of icy cold rocks me out of my daytime reverie. Dusk will soon descend, and I should do the same. The thick mist can hide the narrow path and the tall patana will showcase its illustrious stars such as the cobra, krait and viper. The mountains heard my plaintive sigh. I will return. I hope I can retain this peace.

I am on the plains and the clouds are above me. I embrace my reality with more energy.