Too late ... I'm sorry. But it was fun and now off with me to friend's journals.
Thanks a lot for aliensouldream for organizing this summer treat!
No beta, all mistakes are mine.
So many things had changed the last weeks, things that had changed him. Day by day.
There are many ups and downs – he had to clear his head and the best opportunity to do just this to him is climbing. Mountain climbing. There is always a secret doorway at the top of the mountain leading to a secret passageway to the inner worlds, his world. If he can climb the mountain, he always has the opportunity to knock at that secret door and gain entrance to his divine reality.
It always worked. He always climbs alone. To Stan the effort of the climb up the Mountain simply involves to much stress, hardship and discomfort for comfort-driven souls.
To him it’s a kind of relief … deliverance if not to say. Why does he climb the mountain? Because he feels a pull from it, an irresistible, compelling force - a magical, mystical, mysterious, marvellous magnetism that keeps drawing, ever drawing, his attention inward, upward, onward. Most of the time the pull is inexplicable. It is certainly invisible. It's just there, always there, tugging at the heartstrings of the soul, the conscience, the consciousness. If one tries to pull away, the force pulls harder in return, always redirecting the focus of the attention to the Mountain, to its austerity, to its overpowering and omnipotent majesty and mystery. His soul is always helpless to avoid it, helpless to explain it, helpless to fight it. Helpless is the soul, helpless, and so he looks at the mountain with awe and longing, even fear and apprehension, but, still, he begins to climb, to ascend, to escape, to feel free from the prison that is –at this very moment- the Valley Floor below.
He has free choice to climb the mountain at the pace he likes. He may fall of a cliff and tumble down the mountain. The important thing is to never give up, to pick himself back up and keep on climbing.
His soul soon learns that this is a solo climb. No holding hands here. No travelling buddies. No companions. No partners. His soul goes alone, ever pulled by the sweet magnetism of the mellifluous melodies within. Up he goes, step after step, falling, stumbling, sliding back a little but regaining its stability and composure and pressing on. It is a snail's pace this climb. Yet, with every micro inch of elevation gained, a whole new reality is gained, a whole new panorama, a whole new consciousness.
The Mountain is there, always there, but few are they that challenge it. The valley floor is familiar, comfortable, secure, filled with people, things, activities, delights - you name it, it's there.
The Mountain is severe. It's steep, slick, cold, uninviting, unfamiliar. Just its overwhelming austere presence is enough to frighten most people away. It takes a great deal of courage to even think of climbing the Mountain, not to mention the energy and time involved in its ascent.
But now it’s time. He packs his backpack, controls his equipment and he waits for his friend, his lover … to join him. It’s unfamiliar to him, even after many days and nights they’d spent together … this feeling of togetherness. It had shocked him first when he had realized that he never wanted to be alone again, that he never wanted to be without HIM. It was as frightening as it was reassuring. He’d never been someone who’d clung to something or someone. He’d always loved freedom … but now everything had changed. He wanted this man to stay, to spend some time, to spend all time with him. Sometimes he wanted him so badly that it hurt. He was in love with him before he was comfortable saying it. There is something kinetic about him and his being. He calls him sexy, classically – yet, he’s very much a boy in his energy. Great dynamic – oh yes, that it is.
He feels he settles into the relationship, and it morphs into just living … breathing. It becomes more and more comfortable, something he can’t give up, as if he ever would give up this. It’s an addict sort of.
Yes, he loves his boy and his boy loves him. That’s why he wanted him to join him, not for climbing just for waiting. It is a wonderful feeling to know someone’s waiting for you.
It WAS a physical mountain first, but now – it’s just there. And he loves every second of it. Every moment. Every move. What is this? Is it this crazy little thing everyone is looking for? He has to smile, his heart skips a beat when he whispers his name, humming a little melody. Where does this come from?
He remembers their first shy advances, their first touches, their first kiss. As soft as it was as strong it was, too. It had caused to a crack of his neatly built wall and step by step the wall has been gone.
So is this love? It is pure freedom anyway. And happiness? Is it happiness when you feel like bursting, when the world seems to small for your … emotions?
He still smiles. Casey. To him it’s a wonder still that one single person can change him. To the better? Definitely.
The doorbell rings. What a wonderful sound. What a wonderful world.
So let’s go! The world is waiting. For him. For Casey. For them.