I think mountains tell a story. If you consider the towering
mass of land, there’s nothing incredibly ravishing about the concept of a
mountain. Big, tall, heads of land that reach higher than the valleys and
plains surrounding them. When you see
them, though, and swivel through the roads the spilt them, the mountain’s
majesty is undeniable.
I love traveling West, I love seeing mountains in the
distance, chasing them down, and then staring at them briefly as I cruise by.
In their simplicity, mountains are beautiful. In their innate ability to stand
out, they capture their audience. Mountains have not been formed by man,
mountains are the result of nature, they are exactly what they were created to
be.
I feel like humans sometimes lack our natural state, the
state we were innately created to live in, breath in, connect in. Sometimes, I
feel like we’ve forgotten the importance of standing out, the importance of
recognizing our natural beauty and then, living in it. Mountains are forced to
live as they were created to be, majestic. We, though, have a choice.
What if we lived like the mountain? What if we sought to be
innately human?
Being human is being lovely, standing out and up and
majestically for our service to one another. It is choosing to love, choosing
to be kind, choosing to seek our passions, knowing and trusting that when
everyone does the same, the Universe will breath evenly.
The mountains are innately profound. We, though, we get to
choose it, choose to be inherently human, choose to be naturally majestic,
choose to love.
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