I traveled to a mountain for the first time when I was 9 years old. The vast expanse, the beauty and the complexity was too much for my young mind to reckon with. After that I have visited mountains many times, every experience bringing new realizations. I have watched with awe how the mountains nested with each other, how the roads winded up and disappeared, how the cars and houses looked like tiny toys on the other end of the mountain giant. Every blind turn gave me chills. I shivered to see the depth of the gorges.
So many years later, and I am still in awe. I still keep trying to build a mental map of how the roads circle up. Every corner looks like the end, but new road always pop up. I still get thrilled to see the roads far up in the mountain that I am going to reach in no time. But now I realize, every height that my car achieves, there are many others which it couldn't conquer. Now I know, not just other cars, my car also looks like a tiny toy in the hand of this great giant. As long as I am in this territory, I am tiny, insignificant, living at the mercy of this mountain God. I go up, across, reach my destination and come back home safely, because the mountain wants me to be safe. And I should be forever grateful to the mountain for letting me get lost in its intense beauty.