I had trekked over ten miles up hill by this point and was starting to feel the exhaustion of the day.
My five day journey started that morning in Haifa where I jumped on a quick bus to Acre to sight see the historic castle that sat on the crossroads for two and a half millennia. From there I trekked up through Nahariya to the exit of the Kziv river into the Mediterranean about 4 miles south of Lebanon.
The sun had already set although it was still late afternoon and I felt a shiver as a slight chill breeze reminded me that this was early December and should bundle up for the night. around me the steep slant of the mountains closed in on me while shadows leaped from between the trees to slowly creep over the thin winding path I was struggling to follow.
I trekked on, becoming one with the sounds of the night, the birds ninja’d their way through the brush, looking for late night snacks. The jackals yowled at each other, making it possible to almost pinpoint their location as they slinked around in packs, a chilling cry, like the ghost of a dead alley cat trying to bark. A snarl would break my pace from time to time as a warthog would leap startled from my vicinity and run scampering into the brush.
I awoke early the next morning with the light of day, I had a quick breakfast, did a quick meditation and yoga in the chill morning breeze and then set out on my vision quest with a sacrament of a chocolate bar. The sun became visible over the top of the mountains hours later when I had followed the river up a mile and caught sight of my summit.
While I climbed the path I felt many eyes on me. I looked around as the scenery changed. The thick brush gave way to limestone and olive trees. I felt the rock as I passed by, noticing how the soft chalc practically fell apart in my hands. By this time I felt the calling to me, and I knew I was close to the place.
When I reached it I knew it was the right spot. I threw off my bag and shoes and lay on the ground. I had made it to the top of the mountain, beneath me lay the span of the river I just followed, around me the clear mountain panoramic stretched for miles around me. I had found the vantage point of the universe, and the universe had a vantage point on me.
Many people before me had climbed the same mountain, carved the paths, learned the lay of the land and left their mark for others to follow. As more people follow a trail it becomes a path. Who started these paths? Who can tell. Yet we can still walked in the footsteps of those that walked before us and feel the mark they left.
A spirit came to me while sitting in my meditation. A vision from the ultimate, a messenger from the one deep within. There I bore witness to the awesome and infinite power of that which we call ourselves. The tree before me erupted in energy and transcended time and space in all directions as the words of the elders who came before me had witnessed. The story older than time retold through a thousand different tongues.
As many bore witness before me I bore witness again, that the word of God is as true and unchanging as the rock it is written upon. For all come before it and through it and follow it. None can go against the word of God for the word of God is all.
As the spirit raised from me and transcended I let my spirit pipe lay on the ground near me by the cyclamens. I looked around me, recognizing all the paths around me, the ones walked by people, the ones walked by goats and the ones walked by flows of water. All these paths leading into each other, interconnecting and locking. Slowly, without anyone even realizing it they grow together. All paths that come and go lead to and from the source, as all things come and return to the source, as is the path of all things.
I wondered about the path before me, and how much of a mark I will leave behind me. Such a mark as we all wish to leave, a verification that we exist. Yet in our quest for truth and meaning we have left both behind, lost and forgotten, twisted through years of fear and rage. The truth cannot be destroyed though, as it is written on all things. It cannot break for it is stronger than the stone it is written upon.
And what is the truth of man? The truth of man is that all people are the same. We get hungry we want food, it gets cold we want shelter. These are the things that are true of all people and none can deny it. If someone tries to take these things from you you will try to protect it, this is true of all good people.
What else is true of all people? All people have a heart beating a song to them, a mind they can think and be present with and a body to unleash that potential. At the center of all this is a light, brighter than any other light you have seen, that shines through your heart, mind and body, and this light has an infinite potential. What we do with this potential is a choice that is up to us.
All this I learned that day on the mountain top. The spirit had ascended on me the knowledge of these basics, the stories of which spanned the land around me. Such truths had become known the elders just as they are revealed to all those who will seek them.
For the next three days I hiked through the mountains of the upper Galilee, meditating on the epiphany I had. A new burning desire was beating in my heart, a tune I began to feel, an excitement I began to chant.