The Parable of the Mountain and the Meadow

And behold, there was a man who set his heart upon a mountain,

a mountain whose summit he had never seen.

From his youth he climbed, with feet bare and spirit burning,

for he was stirred by a longing he could not name.

Each ledge he passed offered a reward:

a glimpse of distant beauty,

the applause of those below,

the joy of making what had not yet been made.

And so he did not rest,

but labored with his hands and sang with his voice,

and every step became a work unto itself.

Years passed, and the man grew strong in body and steady in heart.

But as he ascended, the crowds fell away,

and the noise of the world gave way to silence.

Then came unto him a woman,

and she walked beside him with grace.

And children were given to him—

two small lights, full of laughter and likeness.

And they climbed not to reach a summit,

but to be near their father.

And it came to pass, in the man’s forty-first year,

that he paused upon the side of the mountain.

Not from weariness,

but because the air had changed.

He turned and looked behind him,

and lo, he beheld a meadow—

not above him, but beneath his feet.

And the Spirit whispered to him,

“This is the place you dreamed of.”

He saw a house with walls strong and wide,

a workshop filled with tools and joy,

and a storehouse with enough for many days.

He heard his songs echoing still across the hills.

He saw his children running in the grass,

and his wife smiling in the shade of a tree he had planted.

And the man understood:

the summit had never been a place,

but a life.

The climb had served its purpose.

It had shaped him, carried him, delivered him.

And now, the season of striving had passed,

and the season of tending had come.

So the man made his home in the meadow.

He walked in peace.

He rejoiced in the quiet works of love.

He sang not for many, but for those near to him.

He labored not for fame, but for the joy of small things.

And the Lord saw him and was pleased.

For the man no longer chased the mountain—

he dwelt upon it.

And it was good.

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And this is the meaning of the parable:

He who climbs with purpose, but forgets to see,

may pass the very place he was made to be.

But he who pauses, who looks with thankful eyes,

shall find that the dream was never the peak,

but the garden that grew beneath his feet.