I stand looking at the white giant. I want to feel something; awaiting an ecstacy within the true understanding of how small I am—that the world is bigger than me—a sense of divine humility. I crave it. I want Presence, something more real than my reality – Truth – as I gaze at the mountain: big, bold, beautiful. pure.
But I get nothing. I am before the mountain unmoved, unchanged. I want to be a part of it, to sink into the snow, become the rock face, reflect the bare sun off my white surface. I wanted to strike awe in the face of my audience. Yet this desire perverts the moment. I have missed my time, my moment to become what is before me. The mountain is there, but it is as if it is not there at all.