The significance of being insignificant

There is something about the mountains that draws me helplessly.

Is it an escape for me?

I find mountains intoxicating in a strange way. Their presence commands attention- dominating and magnanimous at once. There’s a raw, rugged beauty in front of which all pretence (physical or mental) just evaporates. I feel closer to my core. My identity, what I’ve done, what I will do, possessions, other entanglements simply cease to exist, and every experience is heightened.

Above all, whenever I am surrounded by them, life and my existence is just put into perspective. There is clarity. I don’t remember the last time I was the midst of mountains feeling cluttered or restless. There is a certain ease they exude. Now, this shouldn’t be confused with comfort. It's more a settling down of frivolous things.

There is a profound stillness but no room for stagnancy.

Mountains can be extremely harsh and ruthless too- they are not always mesmerising or fairy tail-ish. They blow you away at different times due to various reasons. They can really push and knead you. I was struggling to come out alive around the same time last year, so I say this with a fair bit of experience. They can be sharp, nonchalant and oblivious to either your presence or suffering, perhaps both. Still I find them one of the best teachers. Still I feel safe. Still find them fantastic. Still get drawn to them.

They serve as an excellent reminder- to be caught up in myself means I am missing out on something far bigger. A reminder to re-calibrate myself, from how I am to how I can be.

By insignificance I don’t imply unworthy. Just that my life is a small part of something far far bigger which is beyond my individual existence. And that there is so much to live and experience in this limited time.

So yeah! Be busy being alive