It begins here.
Give it a second. Do you need a second? Can we just rely on one another this time? May I simply grant your person a fraternity?
Have you arrived at the top? Do your legs feel weak and tumultuous? Can they make that next step?
There it is. I’ve been above the clouds without aid of an engine. I’ve seen and breathed the mist of a cloud as if it comes from a faucet. I hardly had to drink water.
Up here, in the mist, one thinks of solitude (yes, again). It sticks this time. No, not because of the moisture… because of the fact that you can’t see a darn thing! (Also because it’s too wet, your shirt just kinda sticks to your back, or side, or hey, you have a 30lb pack on your back! don’t worry…)
Once you’re up there, past the 4K foot mark, it’s different. God is closer. There isn’t a path to follow, but rather a guided hand. Does that make sense?
I was above the clouds almost the entire climb of the Saddleback Mountains. It was gale-force winds. It had the alpine trees leaning to the left.
The cloud cover moved. It became a flight simulator. Where did my feet go? Have they taken off? Can I actually fly?
No. Of course not.
I was 4,000 feet above. I found a little space and sat for lunch out of the wind as it rushed past. There, I found laughter. Ridiculous that the earth could provide such a barrier.
The way they move. The change in texture from just a few hundred feet in elevation. It’s incredible. Clouds just hang, but when and if I do sky dive, I hope to grasp the feeling once more. No need to drink to be hydrated. That was something else.