I don’t currently have any internet connection. And I feel very blessed that that is the case.
We are driving through the Colorado mountains, up from Durango to Boulder. I am jamming some Pink Floyd and taking in the views.
There’s something about snow-covered mountains that is so appealing. It’s hard to explain what it is. It captivates almost everyone.
It’s one of those things in nature that humbles you. It makes you feel insignificant. But not really in a scary way.
It showcases the magnitude of what constantly surrounds us. It reminds us that we are grains of sand on a beach — that we are bulbs of light in an endless sky.
It’s not as much like the ocean — vast and seemingly endless. The whole mountain is right there in front of you, wholly present in your field of vision. You know what stands before you.
It’s like looking up from the bottom of a skyscraper in New York City — a beautiful creation, over 1,000 feet tall that took years and thousands of man-hours to piece together. And even more to maintain it on a daily basis.
A mountain was not created by man, however, and is not maintained by him either. A mountain was crafted over millions of years by Mother Nature. It is constantly evolving, in a manner not comprehendible by man.
It does not ask for permission. It takes what it takes, no questions asked. It owns us — we must honor it.
The snow atop it is another entity entirely, also not asking for permission. If it tumbles down a cliff and buries you whole — so it goes.
Mother Nature always humbles. It does not choose to do this, it just does.
Drives like these are necessary. We do not own this place; we simply rent what we are allowed. We should take what we are given and be thankful for it.
Mother Nature always wins, in one way or another. Let it.