Rain fell upon the tin roof of my cabin, a peaceful sound at first but growing louder with each pounding drop. Soon, it abruptly stopped, and the mountain returned to its natural rhythm. I made a cup of coffee and stepped outside to a now sunny, cool day and thought of nothing else but that moment.
The forest gave me everything I needed, and I only took what I would use, nothing more, nothing less. I gave back by providing the remains of the game I killed and harvesting gardens that the small animals pilfered with my blessings.
The trees made my shelter, and each swing of the axe was a testament to my commitment to a life left alone and happiness found. An old wood-burning stove came to me one day as I hiked the mountain, coming across a burned-down cabin. It was scorched but intact, so I returned the following day with my sled and brought it home. Tonight, I would have enough heat to shed a few blankets.
Growth takes time, patience, trial and error, and the strength and fortitude to see you through almost everything. Growth, both physically and spiritually, molds you into who you are and who you will become. And there is no better place to accomplish that than the mountains. The pace at which you grow is in your hands, just like the gardens are with proper nurturing and love.
Being alone doesn't mean being lonely. It's a choice when the world doesn't satisfy you anymore. A world full of noise and other pollution-fighting to invade my soul and my being. Greed and half-truths, crime, and hate are just a few things that made the mountains call to me. And it's here I will stay until my bones become brittle, my steps slow to a stop, and I am one with the mountain.
Mike 2024
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