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Saturday, 3 November 2018

i am the mountain, the mountain is me

A fear of heights and the edge is not a fear of Death. It is a fear of Life, of living beyond your comfort and the safety of what you know.
e.macairt 
When I look down the valley my heart trembles, a mild excited anxiety, it is a lack of breath, forgetting to breathe, the drop is so deep, the bottom so far.
My fear is one of trust...do I trust myself not to throw myself over or to miss my footing and plummet  to my death, falling...falling, body hanging gnarled and broken on the trunk of a tree half way down, my skull battered blood red on rocks.
But do I trust you Mountain? Do I trust you to keep your form and not crumble beneath my feet, to let me stand and look at the view that fills my heart and body with an awesome peace. Do I trust this relationship we are having Mountain? Can we live together? If I open my heart to you Mountain will you honour or crush me?
illustration drawn on the Wanderers Retreat at EcoDharma e.macairt
I camp on the edge of the North Ridge, at first I was too scared to sleep this close. "come closer" I hear you whisper. "the view is magnificent from here"..."put your tent close to the edge right here by these rocks and trees, don't hide down there"
Gently I open up to the possibility that I can trust myself to be this close. I can trust the Mountain to hold my weight, to support me. I no longer need to make myself smaller  or compromise my experience for fear or lack of confidence.
"in that way I mirror you Mountain"