Beyond the borders of the sprawling metropolis
The mountain peak was shrouded in misty clouds. We hiked in the direction of that peak, the third highest in the country, along the well marked path, the well laid stones, the well built staircases, for nearly four hours. Yet we never got closer than 6 km from the summit. We never even glimpsed its height. We began later than we had intended. The tent had no walls and when the rain started tapping the roof, we curled up our blankets, gathered our pillows and huddled in the car, the three of us, slept till cramps awoke us, and struggled to sleep again. We never entertained the thought that we could climb to the top, yet when we at last turned back, fearing darkness and rain, I still felt that sudden pang of emptiness and failure. That we had not simply hiked through picturesque mountains. I could not merely accept that we had hiked further and harder than any of us have in months, nor that sore and tired, my body felt vigorously alive. I could not accept these things because we had not reached the peak, nor had we reached anything. We faced the peak, the path to the peak. And we were simply forced, foolish and ill-prepared, to turn on our heels and retreat. Is it so unusual to feel this defeat? Can't you understand the weight of a goal unachieved? That the beauty surrounding me paled in the shadow of the looming peak above. Had we set out to merely hike, a circle, a path, or been more modest in our goals and sought a particular waterfall or cave, my feelings would be different. But we had foolishly set our sights on the unattainable, the impossible summit. Even knowing the futility does not assuage the failure. Perhaps one day, after a lifetime of wandering, seeking those elusory gems of elightenment, I too will attain that rare ability to shift my sights like a weather cock in the wind, never giving weight to those previous inclinations but becoming servant to that ever changing, elusive wind... Or perhaps the coin will land on the reverse and I will find my determination hardened, my goals sharpened, and my steps more deliberate.
Peaking through the mountain veils along the windy coastal roads we saw beach havens. Little villages with little coves. In the one street towns we rolled through. The women chattering, the children playing, the men sctratching their bellies and flicking cigarettes. Past the edge of the road, just out the open window, the sea swept in the brisk salty breeze past jagged cliffs, over clear jade colored water. We breathed deep, smiled longingly, and cursed the many hours of driving before us that tugged us along, away from this little harbor paradise, and towards the bustling, gray streets of our reluctant home.
