It has taken me eleven years to write this entry (this doesnt mean it is written well, just written). A friend unknowingly inspired me last week and I have been trying ever since to find the appropriate words. Thank you friend, for the title of this blog entry.
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My story begins eleven years ago at the bottom of Moon Hill in Guilin, China. My Love and I are traveling together for the second time and I am having the time of my life. Our wonderful guide, Christina had told us about this hill (at a time when I was in the worst shape of my life it appeared to me like a mountain). Over millions of years the environment had worn away most of the limestone, creating a natural acrch in the hill. I couldn't wait to get to the top. Nearing the top (800 steps later) and nearly out of breath I was so relived to finally arrive. At the top there was another couple who wanted to see if they could get higher still. My Love looked at me and I simply said, "go ahead, I will wait here. I cannot go another step." He went ahead and I waited.
Sitting down I surveyed the view. It was majestic. The small villiage at the bottom of the hill looked so quaint. The skyline was marked with huge rock karsts covered in dark green lush shrubs. The mist was enchanting. The blue sky so blue. I absorbed the view utterly alone. I pulled out my journal and this is what I wrote, "September 8th, 2000 - Mountain top experiences are weird. Sitting waiting for _____ I am struck by how far away and out of touch I feel. My whole life I have been told that the goal should be the "mountain top experience" and it should be sought after if in a personal relationship with God and Jesus. Since it has only been a bit over 12 months since my parting with Christianity I still have these old mantras and I am tyring to dissect them. Unfortunately all I can think about while looking down on Moon Hill village is how condescending it would be to always be up on the mountain and never have to experience what the people are truly going through." Over the course of the next few years I remembered my thoughts on mountain top experiences. I wasn't sure. It was a hard feeling to unpack.
On August 20, 2004 I traveled with my Mom, Dad and brother to Mount St. Helens. My Love and I had been trying to conceive for almost a year without luck. I remember the date so vividly because it was the date within the month that is so discouraging for women when trying hard to have babies. The full two hour car trip was taken up with our fantasies of summiting. Looking down into a volcano. Looking out onto the Cascade mountain range. Could there be a better view? We were pumped. Fifty yards from the summit the ground turned into loose sandy volcanic ash. I was in the best shape of my life. I could taste the top. I was well ahead of my family and stopped momentarily to take a breath. As my parents caught up with me I asked why my brother had stopped. They said he didn't want to go on. It was too hard. He was content. They passed me up and proceeded to the top.
I gazed down at my brother and in a split second decided I hadn't really come for the mountain top experience. I had come to spend time with my family. I gazed up one last time. My parents had reached the top. How amazing. I started my journey down to my brother. We sat there in silence for a long time. The beauty was awesome. Mountains piled up upon mountains. At that moment I decided that mountain top experiences were overrated. I finally had unpacked my feelings. It is the beauty within the moment that should be meditated upon. We had a great view. One of the best that I had ever seen. I didn't need to go to the top. The icing on the cake for me is that I shared my experience with someone. We created a memory. I was not alone up on the top, basking in the glory - - I was somewhere in the middle enjoying the company of my brother and enjoying our extremely fortunate vantage point.
The next month I found out that I was pregnant. Over the next six years my life has overflowed with these "almost mountain top" experiences. I have had to sacrifice these glorious experiences for the sake of my children. Each time this happens I am content. Content to be making a memory and to be sharing it with my two precious children. The beauty has been amazing. Flash forward to last week. I find myself in Pioneer Square up on the roof of my friend's apartment building. I watched the sun tease the clouds and I watched the clouds holler back at the sun. It made for a fabulous sunset. We were right above the ferry launch and I was so pleased to see the ferrys slowing making their way across the water and back again. I was with good friends. It wasn't raining. If you turned around and looked up you could see Smith Tower peering down at you. At the end of the evening my friend enchanted me with a story of a lady who lives at the top of Smith Tower. One of the other persons at our event had actually been in the condominium. Wow, to live at the top of a tower. What an amazing experience. It heavily discounted the views that I had been enjoying all evening long. It took me several moments to realize that I wouldn't have traded spots with her. Not ever. I am enjoying the beauty in the middle. It is enough.