Beyond the Mountain

As the fog rolled over the mossy green hills, the indigo hue of the sun rising over the fields warmed my face with the flush of an involuntary smile. I sat wrapped in my wool quilt in my grandfather’s rocking chair on the front porch. The wind was blowing with a soft roar that morning; the kind of noise you might hear from a radiator deep in the night when you can’t get to sleep, so while looking out over the hills rolling before me, I began to ponder what lay beyond the mountain on the horizon.

I imagined a thick forest, dark from the canopy blocking the free flow of sunlight, but still amidst this, all-magnificent streams of light pierced the treetops – like those just when the sun rises and peeks through the back window of a log cabin. Within these clearings of light, there was something majestic, something more than the beauty of the scene, for the streams captivated all my attention. But I quickly diverted, for such peace bored me.

Beyond this wood I spotted a clearing, brilliant with light, lined with wildflowers and lush with green grasses of all sorts and shades. This depression in the clearing gradually rose until it began to ascend sharply, growing more arid until protruding from the hillside extended a rough but firm rock, proud in its posture. On top of this rock the sun seemed to shine so brilliantly that it was not out of the question that it originated from here, but I quickly diverted, for such light blinded me.

After regaining my vision, I began to notice something peculiar within the clearing – wolves and lambs lying together in a low silence, bears and bulls in a quiet collaboration, even Labradors and tabby cats rummaging in the long grasses, and people too, shaking hands and nodding, without words, for it became clear to me that none were necessary.

But then, suddenly, came the noise. Nothing individually overbearing, but together, the noise was immense and infinite compared with the quiet from before.

The unruly pandemonium arose from the base snarl of the wolves, as their previously content stomachs grew hungry. The bears began clawing at trees, marking their holdings as theirs, while the bulls started to dig their hind legs into the rich soil beneath them snorting in the lustful rage of rejection that only fueled their innate desire more.

For a while the labs continued to play whimsically with the sheep. However, as the noise grew louder and they grew more aware, their lighthearted dancing became petrified stillness, and their stagnation transformed to stressful observation. Similarly, after their initial amusement with the Monarchs, the cats lost their attention and gained their wherewithal, noticing the uproar around them. They initially attempted to block out the noise, but instead decided to be the dignified animals they knew themselves to be and withdrew from the nonsense surrounding them. But of course, by moving into the lilacs along the rocky hillside and out of the clearing, the seductive aroma of the flowers lulled them to sleep.

For me the most puzzling scene in the depression was the behavior of the people. People of all kinds, at first so united, easily wavered into bickering. It started along with the other noise, but seemed to have originated from the boastful claim of one man, who proudly lifted his condemning finger at another man, who angrily pointed back with indignation. And from this posture, each group of people created noise in different ways.

One group started resentment-filled manifestations, yet pity arose from no one. Another began shouting and arguing over some shiny objects, yet achievement escaped them. Some stood haughtily beating their chests and claiming to be above this nonsense, yet they still made noise like the rest. And still others stood isolated and alone, wailing into the emptiness of the fullness of pandemonium, yet no one answered, for their cries were without aim.

And still others stood isolated and alone, wailing into the emptiness of the fullness of pandemonium, yet no one answered, for their cries were without aim.

However, still amidst all of this remained the lamb, almost as if a specter, he waxed and waned from my perception, never stealing my attention but always catching my eye. When the wolf snarled, he silently crept away. When the bear clawed, he minded its territory. When the bull scoffed, he humbly lowered his head. When the dogs herded, he willingly followed. Then when they grew stressed, he went on grazing, occasionally encountering a tabby cat, until the cats ventured away into the flowers. And of course, to the actions of the people, the lamb paid no mind, for he knew such action was not what he should follow (or perhaps moreso, he would know what to follow when he saw it, and this surely was not it.)

Suddenly, the lamb lifted his head from grazing, raising his gaze to something shimmering from his upper periphery, and I now remembered the blinding light. However, this time it was different; it invited my attention, and when I looked at the precipice now, all else seemed to fade away as my eyes fixated on a stunning light originating from the eyes of a lion.

His mouth was wide open, and he was roaring, but it was clear he had not just begun but instead had been doing so since before I had even arrived. The roar was distinct, noble, and convicting. It called me, and I could not help but listen. And so, just as suddenly as the noise began, the roar seemed to drown it out.

It called me, and I could not help but listen.

The roar persisted, and I began to walk towards the base of the rock, completely unaware of my own footsteps.

“But how did I not hear it before?” I pondered, “It must have been that I was distracted, or it was my lack of attention.”

Now the roar began to slip away and the noise from before increased in volume. My head spun as I instantly lost sight of the rock and cognizance of my walk. One of the picketers approached me to hand me a sign and a lobbyer flashed coins in my face. I began to feel a desire to hold the money for my own and became fully aware of myself and my own desires. I felt that I was important, that I could do my job well if given it, that I was the only thing that mattered, the only person here. And then I remembered the lonely wailers from before and felt the urge to join them, but no, I knew I was too strong for that.

So I threw my chest out like the others and began to follow suit. I began to notice wonderful things – playfulness, pleasure, success, girls. Ah yes, there was one in the distance, and so I began to go for what I knew I wanted. Thoughts raced through my head: “This is it. What will I say? It all comes down to me! Here we – ”

I had tripped mid-motivational-speech-thought-thing over that tiny lamb from before – “lowly creature,” I scoffed. But the lamb just trotted off through the flowers, paying no mind to me nor its own injury.

Angrily, I followed after him, forgetting the girl, and when we neared the steeper section of the hillside, I finally saw what the lamb had been searching for—a shepherd.

He was not dressed like a shepherd, but still I knew exactly what he desired, and what I had to do. I followed him. He led the lamb and me up a winding path that narrowed as we left the noise of the depression below us. Then the narrow path opened into the most beautiful vista I have ever seen. And it was the eyes of the lion.

“I… I had forgotten about you,” I stammered, “b-but, I now remember. I remember it all. I can see you; I… I can hear you.”

For now it was clear. All the time I had been looking at the animals and people, the shepherd stood watching me. All the time I had been talking, the lion had continued roaring. All the time I had been walking, the lamb had been at my feet, waiting patiently for me to see him.

My lack of awareness was not due to the stillness of the roar or the elegance of the brilliance, but to the magnitude of the distraction, to my willingness to immerse in the seemingly good things around me.

And so that is what I saw beyond the mountain over the fog-filled hills far past my grandfather’s front porch that morning – hunger, obsession, desire, ambition, apathy, bitterness, greed, pride, and loneliness. But amidst it all, I was captivated by a small lamb, who by looking naturally upwards while I was unknowingly watching reminded me of something in the back of my mind I had always known was there – something I had seen peeking through the canopy back in the thicket, something I had heard roaring over the mossy green hills at my grandfather’s home, something I had felt in my heart since the day I was born. So I followed the lamb, who followed the shepherd, who led us to the lion, who showed me true beauty with his eyes as they looked into the noise below us and called forth the silence. And from the silence I saw what he saw all along—a man walking towards a lamb walking towards the shepherd walking towards the lion looking onto a tranquil horizon of unending light.