In The Beginning

In the Beginning

In the beginning, people saw a mountain and wanted to climb them, perhaps as a gateway to the stars. If they could climb through the secret doorway at the top, perhaps they would find another world. It never occurred to them about whether or not the journey led anywhere, or if they could travel the same way back, or if the next world was better or worse than this rock-hard world. If they could talk to the many gods, what would they have said?

Such a difficult travel needed planning. It was necessary to carry only what you needed, not to waste one once of whatever would slow them down. A sack can feel heavy after a while, and could make a person realize how foolish it was to begin such a task. You would have to find food, water, shelter along the way. No telling what kind of difficulty was ahead.

It was the blindness that made Aman climb. Since he could not see, what could he be afraid of? He could not see the dizzying heights or below, so he would never be concerned with falling. He was used to feeling around for food and water, since he never could see it. He made wherever he slept, even if it was in the open, even in drenching rain, his shelter.

Since no one could see the many gods, it made him equal to everyone else. His poverty made him equal with a large percentage of people. His lack of belonging and being told to move made him a class of the disrespected. What had he to lose, but to climb what he could not see, what he could not know, what he could not imagine?

So he climbed, a blind old goat of a man, and he could feel while ascending, the loose pebbles, the wildflowers breaking loose from rock crevasses in his cracked hands.

The people below saw his foolish climbing, saying “good riddance to beggars.” What they could not know and could not see, was their own blindness.

When he reached the apex, there was a door. When he opened and walked through, he could see God, and he realized he could see.