Serenity on the Mountain Top

My name is David Greene...

I have over 600 songs that I have purchased over my brief 22 orbital existence.

I built a hovercraft in 4th grade with my dad's help.

I build a 22 level platformer game in 10th grade.

I left for Africa at age 19 to investigate how to be a missionary for three months.

I like stories in all forms of conveyance from novels to games.

I like people who don't fit in.

I like learning about anything anyone has time to explain to me.

I don't like commercials, or advertisements, or men of sales.

I don't like totalitarianism, and not being able to pay for college.

I don't believe Man can ever correctly surmise the nature of Divinity.

            So finally I have been economically cornered into a position where I know I cannot escape the call of my nature to be a writer. I will not dare say I am a good writer or that I am anything but a laughing stock and a fool. Hopefully however I can use this series of posts to hone my skills in this art and perhaps keeps a few entertained if not by my curious adventures then by my quirky train of thoughts, questions, and reasoning about the world we cohabitate in.

Perhaps I will drop some made up scene of fiction written for a novel with no form in conceivement yet.

Perhaps I'll be besieged by the need to undertake an adventure so ludicrous men will be drawn to question my sanity.

Today I bring you a simple piece I call...

Serenity on the Mountain Top

            I awoke to the velvety blue twilight of the morning. Thumps and bumps sound out the many individuals who live in this cabin home on the north side of Montreat ridge stirring about this business or that.  Rounding the corner I had the surprise to find the first wholesome snow of the year descending upon the window seal. The flakes were of the light moderately sized kind that lacks moisture and is hard to pack but incredibly slick under foot. The true benefit of this kind of snow is that the crystals of ice seem to enhance the amount of light in the air so the sky is not grey or dismal but a cheery illuminating white.  It was already an inch or two and my mother was fretting about whether school would be called off as she is a Latin teacher and ACA had given no word to the confirmation or to the counter. After a bowl of porridge and some coffee with milk I layered in whatever random assortment of clothing happed to compile the top layer of my floor/ clothing basket system. (Very complicated, multiple layers of clean and dirty)

            Then I ventured out into the snow to gather firewood, I filled the wheelbarrow full of oak before I began to try to push it home and realized it had a flat tire so I resorted to turning it around and dragging the heavy weight across the snowscape back to the basement door and unloaded the bounty, putting some air to the tire I made the work a little lighter for the second load. Finding the temperature to be 28* and myself bundled just right with my scarf wrapped round my beard and so I took my last swig of liquor and started off down the drive way leaving the only set of prints to be found. It was a marvelous feeling this being the hottest year on record only on January 20^th have we gotten the first true snow.

            Search the world and I don't think you can find a man who hates the cold more than I do; it ranks up there with commercials and advertisements for the bane of my existence. Keeping a lengthy stride and a pace calculated to give me ample body temperature without producing a sweat. I soon entered the stone gate of Montreat and began to walk around the lake before entering the laurels and sourwoods that make up the hills in this cove. Out of public spectacle I felt a silence that entered the soul that only the snow can give. Only two sets of tracks in the snow and I never saw another individual. Solitude is my first love, a crowd is something I can never fully trust myself to without feeling my inner peace moved. Panting and low on fluids I coming along the rocks on all fours began to eat fresh snow to regain liquids. Then I crested the top and found the snowy town of Black Mountain, silent and still, laid bare for my amusement.

            Flakes floated down listlessly onto my tongue and hair. The grey bare hues of twigs on the trees were softened by the blue of distance and gave the mountains ringed around me a purple hue. Moments of natural bliss, or inner peace and serenity are all too rare now but my spirit perseveres if only because of the mountains, streams, and trees which have always lent an ear to my troubles and never fail to set me right at the end of a long disappearance into the forest.

            For a man who once found himself of a mission to evangelize others in Uganda, you must ask why I have cast off from this original destination when so much of the fire of my youth was spent to that cause?

            I find in the region where I am from that Christianity is used to shame and exclude people from friendships, you don't find strong bonds between church members, but break the law with a man and you have a friend for life. It's as if they are a frightened when gathered together and I find in a group setting it is hard to ask questions of them or to have a discussion that is not intentionally lead by a group leader with a distinct lesson.  I do not find the position of a pastor to be sound in scripture as the veil has been torn in the temple of Jerusalem at the time of Christs passing to symbolize the death of the need for a clergy or priest. There is now man and God according to the Holy Scriptures. I am also uncomfortable with the unsocial aspect of a churches layout with pews facing one direction for a one man show; no one is able to have a conversation in this manner it is degrading to the population. This is clearly not the same medicine that first Christians used, I believe they lived in epicurean monastery's and pooled all there financial resources together for the benefit of the unit. I don't condone its style and don't want my name associated with ecclesiastical business anymore. Not to say that I am ashamed of what I have done in the past as an evangelist. I did then what I did because I believed it was the right thing to do and for the same reason now I make my counter argument.

            My take on a historical figure cannot however change with the customs of our modern generation. That's just not how it works, what He is to me someone who's character and nature and message for all generations is beneficial to meditate on for the soul. He gives credence to poverty and speaks of hell as something to truly be feared. It surprised me that we do not know who wrote Mathew and that honestly disturbs me as to the accuracy of his message in our times. His personal claims to the throne of thrones must be taken with pious judgement and severe reflection.

            I have expanded my question on this matter to the simple statement. "Is there any divinity in our universe?" all sorts of men say all sorts of things but I believe if a man is convinced there is a God he will have a small voice in his head that says 'yeah but maybe not.' and if a man believes beyond a shadow of a doubt that there is no God he will always have a voice in his head that says 'maybe that not right.' As for my answer I have peace in saying I do not know. I believe I will never know but I can appropriately imagine what a loving deity would do. If deity is a loving entity and we are not all castaways at the mercy of a mad god.

            This is how my mind wanders in the sill moments... Journeying down the mountain I came to a trail sneaking away along the ridge top and from there cut a hard left and snaking under laurels and dogging briers bushwhacked my way to my back yard passing the pick-neck table top I had dragged into the forks of and oak tree to create a platform for observation. It was laid over with a fine blanket of snow. Behind it a chimney happily puffed blue smoke into the white sky and I could imagine a hot bowl of soup and good things to eat inside in the warmth of home.