So what if this is my Everest. If it is, I would probably try to climb it blind. Unfortunately, in true Sisyphus style I feel like I approach the summit daily only to find that I am right back at the bottom once again baggage and all. When I was young I always hated travelling with my parents because somehow on vacations I was always elected bell hop, the tips were terrible, and my parents travel with everything they own but their bed frames. Yet, now I also equip my travels with cripplingly heavy luggage. Now where was I, oh yes Everest, unlike the snow covered peak of the Himalayan peak that ever rises into the mist dominate and foreboding. I find that my personal metaphorical Everest is elusive and seemingly intangible. For what should I strive? I know the answer and yet I feel that its revelation makes my Everest even more distant like a mirage shimmering in the distance that seemingly retreats with each of my approaching steps. So what is this monument that scrapes the sky its self the answer is both simple and yet infinitely complex: LOVE. Yes, love, my God, my neighbor, without fear, without selfishness, without pride, to accomplish is would require perfection, a characteristic of which I am out of stock.
more to come...
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