The temporary existence of the human spirit scatters into a million-different rain drops. Each of them, serving a purpose…
Ahead, a million-year-old glacier retreats behind the ephemeral ranges. Water flows through the veins, falls from the carved cliffs, the emerald inlet breathes below. All of this would remain the same if we disappeared. A place where time doesn’t exist, and by understanding this, we briefly but deeply exist within it. The mountains, the glaciers, the tides and the rivers, they are more than me. Their days are not limited, and their purity and purpose continue indefinitely. I long for the “one-ness”. A life of being as pure and as purposeful as the rivers. If I could live as quietly as the trees, I would be free.
Lost in the valley of Byron Glacier on a quest for smooth rock. Our eyes fixed on the immensity of the glacier. Feeling its life as it moves and echoes through our souls, its life transforming into the roar of the river below us as we precariously balance on the limb of the snow bridge. As we continue towards the wall now in sight, the stillness of the elephantine is shattered as a distant roar grows steadily louder. Above the climbing wall, a wet slide cascades over the cliffs. An uneasy reminder that the present continues, the temporary existence of the human spirit flows, its purpose unknown.