Mountain Aspects

Nile Barnes, Staff Writer

The peak. The one thing you can only hear to believe. The Very sound can bring you to tears as you know you finally made it. The peak. The very sight reflects the beauty of an open field with sprouting brown wheats and wild domestic animals running free. The only thing that you know was worth all the pain and troubles you put yourself through. It’s the sound that you can only hear from the gunivation god, that brings you serenity and clarity. But how does one get there?

As we all know, climbing our mountain is a big challenge many have to face, and that challenge consumes us with the negative feelings of despair and guilt. Despair from knowing the struggle of the mountain journey, and guilt from knowing you deserve to walk that journey. Many of us have our own reasons for not going in the direction of the peak, but we all join when knowing the the trip will grant life long satisfaction.

The endowment of overcoming the biggest, most powerful, most sacred and intimidating obstacle known to man is the best thing you can give to yourself. Even if you see you and that mountain as cat and dog, yin and yang, or black and white, you need to triumph and show the mountain that you will forever be notorious.

The steps that you take, the things that you break, and the feet that will ache, are the smiling achievements that will come your way once defeating this mountain. But what is that mountain that everyone is afraid to climb?

The mountain to anyone is the worst thing that could’ve happened, the worst thing you could have faced, or the worst thing you could’ve done. The mountain has no certain reason or rhyme, but it is there to bask in the glory. The glory that you, yourself gave to it. The glory that showers the mountain in luminous evil dark light that spreads across the clear blue sky. The mountain itself seems like mount everest, leaning over you like a crystal blue wave about to hit the end of its journey.

The mountain that has been in your life to cause you pain and misery, sees that you don’t give it attention. It sees that you won’t gift yourself the courage to face it, growing from your ignorance and refusal of revisiting the past.

You must find your inner voice to speak up, act out, and not take the mountain for threat anymore, because what the mountain feeds on the most is your fear. It feeds on the fact of knowing you’re too shook to take the journey of freedom from it, and knowing the only thing you do is hope for it to leave.

No matter how much you pray, cry, run, or hide, the mountain knows it will always be there. The only key to defeating it is climbing it, and that is exactly what we all need to do. We all need to see the base of the mountain, and take it head on step by step, foot by foot, or inch by inch.

As you take your first steps on the treacherous  journey, you feel the ice-hot numbing pain crawl from your toes to your legs. You feel the goosebumps on your arms as you feel the gleaming red beam of death himself, staring at the back of your scalp .

You can smell the pain, misery, and betrayal in the air, causing the feeling of despair. You can taste the mist of tears in the cold breeze, as these were the tears from your fallen victims. And as you look up, the peak only seems to be getting thousands of miles further.

There are bridges made of backlashes of your guilty achievements and mirrors made to reflect the “monster” that’s hidden behind your cloak of satisfaction.

The skies seem as ironic and luminous as a mixture of bright and dark colors, perfectly matching your current feelings of joy and anxiety.

Just as you feel the burn of a thousand suns in the deep flesh of your calves and shins, a sharp stab of a jagged knife in the crevasse of your back, and the dreadful tearing at the bottom of your feet, you look at the peak, seeing that you’re more than halfway to the top.

The mountain sees you close. The mountain sees there is nothing holding you back. The one thing the mountain doesn’t want is for you to win.

You see all of the distractions, the sway of the mountain trying to throw you from your balance, the weather changes, making you have heat flashes or glimpse of hypothermia. You see your “demons” arise from the sides of the trail grabbing at your ankles with their cold, white, calloused hands leaving scratches and bruises.

You hear the jingle and clashing of chains spring up from the shadows of the pitch black trail behind you, as these are chains from your demons trying to hold you back. They are stripping you of your innocence, of the perfect glow of your melanated skin, of the strong mentality that you once owned. You see yourself giving up, giving in.  your melanin glow is turning pale, your eyes are swelling, you see yourself turning into a split image of what your demons wanted you to be.

They want your current ancestors, the image of a helpless nigga not able to fend for himself, not able to find his way out of despair. They want you broken down, confused, sad, angry, miserable, sick, long forgotten.

Just as the chains being held by the pale skinned-beings drag you back down the mountain by your arms and feet, you feel a slight jolt deep in the center of your vessel. You’re not sure what it is, but it grows stronger and stronger, pumping your chest with every beat. You see your melanin returning, your eyes widening with an electrifying jump, then scans and focuses at the peak of your journey, only to see its a few feet away. You levitate up with the strength of your past god and goddess ancestors, and force yourself to the top, with the demons attached to your every limb.

Now knowing you are granted the strength of the angry bull from your past gods, you charge toward the peak with every step dragging and braking the heavy metallic shining chains.

The demons are grasping the chain as hard as possible, but are losing grip, rolling backwards into the dark with ear bleeding screams.

Once you keep fighting, keep charging, keep resisting, and keep strutting, you finally make it to the top.

Pure silence. No more chains. No more beings. No more screams. No more pain. You feel the tears swell your eyes as you see gazelles and zebras running wild with each other. Lions with their cubs loving each other, and cheetahs with their cubs giving comfort. As you look around and hear the beautiful silence of animals roaming, and the slight breeze brushing the brown wheats together, you notice you are accompanied with your ancestors with the same ripped and torn clothing. You all look over the beautiful terrain together, basking in its beautiful, long deserved glory.