Arriving at the top of a steep ridge I catch my breath. The hike up has been long and difficult because of the rugged, steep, and rocky mountain trail plus the ever constant rise in elevation that I am not used to. The hike is worth the effort however! The view is spectacular and all around, as far as my eyes can see are ragged ridgetops and apparent steep canyons though I can't see too far down into them. I can only see down into one canyon- the one I have just ascended. From the river running far down below, from the trees and wild flowers and bumble bees and butterflies, the hummingbirds feeding on bright, colorful flowers, and little furry, scurrying ground creatures and myriad birds singing and chirping, to now atop the ridge where literally nothing lives except of course the mountain itself.
Funny we sometimes overlook the very existence of that which gives life and sustenance to the things that live on it like the mountain. Standing there, looking out and around and down, the mountain, so calm and resolute and grounded. Unbothered seemingly by time, weather, fire, ice or pelting rains, by fierce winds or extreme depths of snow. The mountain exists for no other reason than itself. The mountain is self-contained. The mountain simply grew because of being where it is.
There are layers to humanity's knowledge. One of the layers is education and the spread of that education. Or perhaps I should say knowledge and the spread of that knowledge. For instance the mountain I am standing on. A century ago I would have been standing on this mountain similarly to today but I would not know that, for instance in this case, the ocean far to my west had a shelf under it which was being pushed ever so slowly yet steadily eastwards. That ceaseless movement over millions of years caused the earth here where I am standing to rise and eventually to form this very mountain I am standing on and to form the as-far-as-I-can-see skyward reaching ridges around me in all directions.
I sit down. I take out my food and my water and my dog is ever so anxious for his fair share of our food and water. We sit together and his food is gone before I have even begun to eat and drink. I laugh. It's all good and as I watch my dog I notice he too is looking around and taking in the expanse around us. He is much like, if not exactly like, we humans used to be. He is taking in the view and everything else and is actually totally ignorant of any scientific facts, of any data, of any history, of anything other this actual moment. We used to be like that of course. Some humans on this planet still are ignorant and of course some never get to the tops of mountains.
Sitting on the top of the mountain I reflect that there was a huge group of people who came from all over the world some 170 years ago to dig in these mountain's for gold. The gold rush it was called. We now know that the gold they dug here came from literally hundreds of miles away, pushed here by the ever moving shelf under the ocean which brought the gold which was lying in the ocean's bed east and as the mountains rose the gold rose and then one day a man found some of it and the rest is history.
There have been many "gold rush's" in our short time as humans on this planet. From the earliest members of our most ancient ancestors of a few hundred thousand years ago to the mating and mixing of neandertals and homosapiens some 60,000 years ago that formed the genetically diverse homo sapiens who then began to flourish. Of all the hominins who ever lived on the exciting tree of evolution we are the last twig on the last branch. Then along came our ability to use fire, tribes became popular, and then agriculture was learned, cities were built, and then immigration and emmigration, world wars, then fast forward to our lifetime where we learned about stopping war, free speech, social integration of differing races and religions and cultures. We learned of free speech, equal rights and the right to free choice. We learned about TV, telephones, the internet, and countless other things. We learned of love and pain and happiness and sorrow. We have forgotten more than we have learned I'm sure.
And still the mountain stood there calmly and patiently, maybe even rising ever so slightly while we didn't notice. The mountain endured more heat, more wind, more rain and more wind and snow. It endured more folks like me hiking up onto the tallest peaks of itself so we could look down at all its majesty and strength and glory. The mountain is indifferent to everything. It is self sufficient and remains quiet about it. It gives everything it can and asks for nothing in exchange. It asks for nothing but it takes the weak, the feeble, the hurt, the old and the dead and recycles all of that as feed for that which grows on its surface. It's a wonderful cycle of life that the mountain sustains and has sustained for countless years.
I guess the whole point is does all my knowledge about this mountain, about history, about humanity really do me any good? Am I any better at this moment on this mountain than my dog? We're both sitting here looking out over the ranges of ridges spreading out in all directions as far as our eyes can see. It's unbelievable really that there is such a vast expanse of wilderness and that we're sitting in the middle of it! Yet here we are. Now my dog has fallen asleep next to me. I lay back and look up at the sky and it's so blue and cloudless. The sun is warm on my face and the air is warm around me. I too fall asleep.

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