Only those people who dare to climb - and climb higher every day - will trip, fall, make mistakes, run into problems and perhaps even face death.
Some people come to a standstill in a pleasant sunlit valley, where God's rod and staff are benevolent and not too demanding. They are like children who never grow up; not because they were born that way, but because they don't eat or drink or renew themselves. They develop into spiritual frogs, living in golden palaces on the velvety light-green banks of a pond surrounded by beautiful gardens.
Everything in the pond is fine. The water is warm and the air balmy. It's the perfect place in which to live your life. You take your own decisions and you don't have to renounce much of anything. You only need to try and fulfil certain moral and ethical principles. If you just do this, you won't be thrown out.
But woe to those unhappy people who dare to leave this haven to climb further. They will begin to feel the cold freezing their feet, the wind blowing against their faces. They will have to start forgetting the palaces and the feasts and the pleasures of the pond. They will have to start taking off their best clothes and, naked, cover themselves with the furs that the mountain gives them. They will eat roots and wild honey. They will wash their scratches and injuries in the water of the mountain spring, cold and dark.
They will have to forget prudence and common sense and trust in an inexplicable instruction to walk along paths which will not lead down from the mountain. Sometimes there will not be any way out; only the precipice will prevent them from continuing upwards. Then the 'fanatic', the 'ignorant', the 'naive' and the 'idiot' will kneel down to pray to his God, asking for a bridge so that he can continue climbing. When the tears keep him from seeing, they will be that bridge on which to cross, a Red Sea opening, always the unexpected.
Discipline is the rule of the mountain. Let no one think that here one can do as one pleases. All steps made firmly lead to failure. Only in prayer, asking for that unspeakable, unpronounceable and invisible direction; only by looking for God is it possible to walk the mountain paths. Sometimes one cannot see or feel them because, quite simply, there is no path. Eyes are useless; one must use the eyes, hands, feet and muscles of faith.
Truly there is a reward. Hope will not be cut off. And in the end, the Father of the Mountain - the same merciful Father who does not destroy the pond - will look you in the eye and in his brightness you will know that you have done what is right. And he will call you 'son, son of light, strong and valiant, ready, free'... his son.
By MANOLO ORDAX
English
