It is said, that those who are content to live on the flat fields of faith, to do what is required of them and no more, to meet God only after they die, that this is an acceptable path. But for those who wish to meet God here and now, to scale the high mountains, a guide is necessary, a human who has walked the path before, and can point out pitfalls.
I hear this from people I respect, learned people, people who have been there. And still it feels wrong to my heart. Wrong to me, right now, though not necessarily wrong for others.
For I feel I was born on the mountain. I was born there, and at some point I joined the trickle of people marching down to the fields. The trickle became a waterfall, and we spilled down onto the fertile valley, where we gathered grain and grew strong in body. Where we only looked up at the mountains rarely, with nostalgia tinged with fear.
But sometimes we go back, to gather berries, to breathe the air, to hear the eagle's cry. Our valley town looks so little, when seen from the sky.
I go back to the mountain, and I remember the old paths. I become bolder as I feel an inner Guide, who is also greater than all. Other travellers do I meet on the bends and caves along the path, but I must follow the voice of my Guide, for as long as He calls. I must follow Him.
So I'm sorry to disappoint those who wish to give me good advice, and I'm thankful for these meetings, and I know they are part of the journey.
Thy will, not mine, be done, my Guide, and save me from arrogance by humility and love. There is no refuge, and no escape, except to You. And when we turn--at last--to You, draw near to us quickly, for it is by your power that all is done. Amen.