I was told that life was about getting over the Hill. On the other side is where the meaning of life and all truths will be revealed. The Hill was between me and the truth.
To the left of the Hill was a raging river, and to the right was the thickest briar patch known to humanity. There was no other way to the truth but to climb up and over the Hill.
So I scrapped, I stumbled, I tortured myself –all in the name of getting to the other side. Many, many years passed, as I struggled to reach the truth. I questioned my goal with every step. I questioned why I had to climb the Hill for the truth. I questioned what the truth would reveal to me. I questioned when the journey would be over.
The day finally came when I reached the top. My clothes were tattered and fingernails broken from the rocks. Although battered by the climb, my mood was one of exaltation. “I have made it to the top”! I cried. And there I was, alone, at the peak. I paused and gloated in my accomplishment.
I approached the opposite side of the hill for the descent. There was a large group of people at the bottom, they appeared refreshed and renewed. They were being kind and helping one another. And they looked young. ”How can they look so young and refreshed”? I thought.
My frail body carefully navigated down the slope to reach the crowd below. They greeted me and embraced me. I was surrounded by warmth and love. This, this place, was indeed my destination.
I commented on how youthful everyone appeared and asked if I would regain my youth.
“Well, we are not that sure”, Came the response. “You see – together we built a small bridge over the river – it took a couple of years --but here we are.”
