Jemy Francillon — Ledgebound a.k.a. Mountain High

Ledgebound and staring down the deep end.

The enormity of inches stretches far as focus deepens.

Everything must eventually break free of the thread from which it depends.

The precipice from which you stand is lined with faults and will soon crumble,

your least fear should be to stumble.

For when this summit is at sea level, you will see level with the ants

and their hills will mountain over you.

You cannot expect to soar if you do not jump.

Consider the inches, and step. Be a hill hopper. Anchor your fear as you belay entire ranges to straddle a pair of mounts because it is paramount that you at least once, get to drink from the clouds.

This is what it means to give in. To cut loose. There is too much comfort in the tether. Be in concordance with the chaos and find perfection in the flux.

Do this and you are no longer small, human, or temporary. You are grand, celestial, and eternal. A behemoth strolling zeniths meditating on hills of the ants.

In this state nothing is beneath significance. The pebble carries the same considerable weight as the eagle and the eagle in turn as the tree from which it nests. What this tree does is surely not lost to the pebble. All things are of one.

Connected in this way, you will see complacency as kin to comfort, both the progeny of fear. Ever moving, thinking, and growing you routinely stride forward past the safe and familiar, looking boldly into the unknown.

To conquer should not be the aim, but rather to glean and to gain. We are all born in pieces, with some assembly required. Using just the parts we’ve been given will never make us whole. We must go out, acquiring, adopting, and absorbing the pieces we need to be complete. Let us trounce upon this earth like the golems and borgs of our myths, clenching nets in our fists —  to catch not our fall, but experiences instead, as they flutter by on the wings of butterflies sending squalls around our heads.

Go please. Steel yourself and catch the gust. There will be hazards but your mettle must be tested lest you rust.

As you rove, you will leave pieces of yourself. Long not for them, they will be for others to gather and to use, just as you gather from those before you. Through this cycle we all connect. The world is made whole through its collection of parts.

Mountain high and climbing. Upward and onward you go, shaping the world as it shapes you.