Mount Taranaki
I first viewed you standing in your
majestic greatness from a distance.
Everything around you appeared
miniature in comparison.
My intention was to stand on your
2,518-meter peak
and drink in the view.
My imagination was in overdrive.
What would it feel like to stand on the
top of New Zealand’s most perfectly
formed 120,000-year-old volcano?
What would I see from your peak?
The mountains in Tongariro National
Park perhaps?
My mind still.
My heart open,
I stood at your base in awe of your beauty.
I felt humbled in your sacred presence.
You stood there steadfast in your truth
commanding respect.
In many ways, you were a formidable force:
you created your own weather
that could change in an instant,
catching many climbers by surprise.
For some of them, the cost of their desire
to summit was their lives.
You demonstrated the realm of
opposites unfolding simultaneously.
At your lower elevations, there was a
sense of peace, of calm, an open invitation
to spend time with you
as a raging storm unfolded
at your peak, keeping people away.
You expressed permanence
and impermanence as massive
rocks gave way and tumbled
downward with great speed
destroying whatever was in their path.
You were both
the creator and the destroyer,
the protector and the opponent.
I spent a month in your presence,
traversing your plethora of
trails as I explored your enchanting
landscape at various elevations.
A mystical experience at 1,500 meters
with two white butterflies,
flying on either side of me as I climbed.
Like two angels enveloping me
in love while guiding me
safely along the path.
Your magnificent waterfalls.
Each unique, but one in particular
consumed my attention.
The water cascaded over the jagged
rocky escarpment, reaching a crescendo
as it crashed onto the rocks
then whirled like a dervish as it collected
in the pool below.
As if you were saying, yes,
there is a time to be audacious,
and allow your true self to be seen
and heard in its own unique way.
I sat on your slopes among the
exquisite wild flowers, bearing witness
as the wind swept up the
falling petals and scattered them
on the rocky slope below.
As the wind swirled around me,
I listened with my whole being.
Abscission, surrendering what was
to earth to be transformed anew.
Once again you shared your wisdom
graciously and ever so simply.
You had trees unlike any
I had seen before.
Their unearthly beauty and
presence enthralled me.
I stood silent, fully expecting
them to come to life,
while dozens of entrancing orbs of light
danced among their branches.
Stillness.
Sheer awe and wonder.
At one with the mystery of the
present moment.
On clear days, the view from your
higher elevations was spectacular.
The alluring mountains in
Tongariro National Park clearly beheld,
but, not from your summit like I
imagined when I was first
beckoned by you.
The call wasn’t to be on your peak;
you had greater gifts to offer
than your summit view.
You are a wise teacher to
those who respect you and who
take the time to learn your ways.
You are not to be taken for granted
and you make that clear for those
who listen to your wisdom.
I practiced listening intently.
Every day in your presence
was an extraordinary experience.
The one day that the conditions
were favorable to summit,
I was no longer seeking your peak.
By simply being in your presence,
listening and absorbing your wisdom
I was unexpectedly standing on a peak
of consciousness I hadn’t
sought or even imagined.
Deep, deep gratitude to you,
my wise teacher.
May I follow your phenomenal example,
standing steadfast in the truth of
who I am, while graciously sharing
my wisdom by being it.
May I be audacious and radical
when it serves my highest good
and the highest good of all.
May I embrace my magnificence
while shining the light for those
around me to know theirs.
May I always remember that
I am loved and guided.
May I surrender daily to the light, to be
continuously transformed anew.
Katharina Reed
Mount Taranaki
Photo Credit: Katharina Reed