I rarely pay attention to what I inhale and exhale.
My breathing is automatic.
I take in the air around me and rarely notice its movement in my lungs, the taste of it in my mouth.
I used to long for the mountaintop experience and now I wonder if there is such a thing, if the thin air found at the apex distorts one’s view.
The idea that one should go to the mountaintop to find the answers now seems somehow suspect to me. Such experiences far too often seem to fade rather quickly when one re-enters the everyday of middle earth.
There is a sickness that comes with remaining in places devoid of oxygen, where the air is thin and the mind can wander and cease to be clear.
One can see far but perhaps the sight is a distraction.
Sometimes I wonder if the answers are found simply by going underground into the inner caves that reside within my soul.
O, for the patience to remain on the ground and learn to breathe again.
I leave my house and the wet snow strikes my face.