Angel's Landing

January 20, 2012
By A-World-Without-Orange SILVER, Glastonbury, Connecticut
A-World-Without-Orange SILVER, Glastonbury, Connecticut
6 articles 4 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
Everyone is weird in their own weird way.

I am standing on the edge of where angels land on Earth, a thousand feet above the ground. It doesn't look like a holy place. Rocks and dust and scraggly trees line its borders.

I am alone.

My family is still a mile behind me, working their way up Earth’s spine, clinging to the chains they depend upon for survival.

I broke free of those chains.

Here, at the summit of this great monument to the angels, I am a free man, free from the binding chains of life, free to choose my own path.

Which path should I choose to take? Should I follow God? The great Mother Earth? My own, unknown course?

I tilt my head back, to gaze at the stars and the sun and the moon, trying to catch the Eye of God, to ask Him for guidance. The stars burn coldly in the night, indifferent to our sufferings here on His creation. Even here, on this mountain blessed by His angel’s feet, God does not hear my call.

I kneel at the feet of my Mother. Her spirit is omnipresent: in the trees around me, in the dust beneath me, in my borrowed body. I am one of her children, just as she is one of the children of God.

Why should God bother in the affairs of just one of his uncountable number of offspring? Why should he even care about our species, when He has an infinite number of children, and their children, and all who come after? God created all, so He is too busy in the infinite dealings of time to care about one person, on one planet, in one universe. Mother Earth created our world, is our world, each individual leaf on this tree, each grain of sand on this mountain, each one of us who have the privilege to live with her. Mother has only us to care for, so she cares infinitely more than God ever could.

My family is still far behind, but I am no longer alone. I feel Mother pulsing in my veins, in the ground beneath my feet, in my brothers and sisters who share this mountain, this world we inhabit together.

An ant scurries across the toe of my boot. He is as much my brother as the arrangement of flesh and bones that shares my name and house. We are all made from Mother Earth, and to her our bodies shall eventually return. We are not forever. Neither is our Mother. But God is eternal. He will have more children. The cycle of their lives and deaths will continue for eternity, none more significant to God as a passing speck of dust would be to the very mountain I stand upon.

But here and now, we exist. Mother Earth exists. So why taint what insignificant speck of time allotted to us? I will love our Mother, as she loves us. God doesn't need our love, our respect, or even our subconscious attention. I will devote myself to loving my Mother Earth, with the hope that one day, this borrowed body can nourish her, while my spirit drifts along in happiness.

The author's comments:
This experience took place on the top of Angels Landing, a rock formation in Zion National Park.
Religion has always been a thought-provoking topic for me, and due to the name of this formation, it was going through my head the entire way to the top. And this essay was the result.

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