Growth is the Journey

My first memory is of strange, bulbous eyes inspecting me. The creature floated above the sand by moving its thin appendages and introduced itself as a fish. I was so small then, little more than a mound of pebbles, really, and no one paid me any mind. I observed the desolate plain of the seafloor endlessly, receiving the rare but welcome visitor from time to time.

Little by little, I grew taller, and sturdier. Many new friends, fish of all shapes and sizes, snails, sponges, and all sorts of creatures from the depths, began to gather around me. They enjoyed the shelter I could provide from the changing currents or from other creatures that wanted to swallow them whole. Life was so active then, movement always surrounded me. It was dizzying and ever-changing, full of life.

Eventually, I outgrew my family on the seafloor. My life there was always so busy, so fleeting, so…seasonal with the currents. I grew taller still, and wider until one day, I crested the waves of the sea and discovered a whole new world. A drier, quieter, even more desolate world than when I was young. I could use the quiet. One thing remained familiar though, and it was the water, though it no longer surrounded me, it came from the sky instead! What a ridiculous notion.

In time, I made new friends, quite different from my old ones. These ones walked on legs that touched the ground that spread from me far into the distance. I’ve counted legs of four, six, sometimes more, or even as little as two pass me by. My new friends were not as transient, making their homes at my side and in the shadow that I cast. I wore proudly the greenery that cloaked me, protecting me from the harsh elements. When I looked around, I could see fields full of movement, my friends playing with one another amidst fields of flowers and in the shade of the trees.

One day, as I gazed down upon the land, deep cold swept over me, weighing me down. The thick ice crystals cleaved chunks from me leaving me scarred and marked. This lasted a long time, it seemed it would never end, but one day, the cold moved on and I was freed from its weight. The land around me had changed, and so did I. I could barely recognize myself; I was no longer smooth, deep crevices disfigured me beyond recognition. I decided to move away from the hurt and the desolation that ravaged my surroundings and see where I would arrive. I closed my eyes to the hurt and desolation all around me, closing off my senses to pain and suffering, growing still in silence and despair.

As I grew, I shed my green coat and the weight it carried on me replacing it with a softer, lighter white one. It’s colder up here but, once I opened my eyes again, I learned that I could see very far all around me now. The crags that mark me and once worried me have become part of me, and as time went on, I even learned to appreciate them. As I watched from high above the clouds, I found some of my old pieces; I watched them with curiosity, such small things they seemed, and so great was their loss at the time, yet now they are little to me. Memories of times long past that, although painful then, could not bother me now.

I still get visitors at times, mostly the winged ones, sometimes the two-legged ones, but they never stay very long. They usually watch me from afar and admire me. It seems I’ve grown a lot in these times, and people look up to me as a sign of steadiness and stability, never changing. If only they knew how far I’ve come! If my oldest friends could only see me now, they would scarcely recognize me! My body is ancient, eroded, and lined by gorges and crevices. Yet, these things add more to my character, my story, than what was taken away.

I have now found my true place, my home, my purpose. I live among others like me, who grew tall and wise and inspire the smaller creatures. Their faces were also marred by similar events; some by cruel ice, others by raging fire and others still weathered by the water from the sky. Now that we are together, beings of all kinds appreciate and revere us, finding inspiration at our sight. Mountains they call us, attempting to describe the feeling they receive upon viewing our majesty. These fleeting awe-struck visitors remind me of my old, finned friends from the waters. They seem to understand the forces that shaped us and respect us for our growth and protection despite the challenges that we faced to get here.

Sometimes I look back at the waters where I came from, now far in the distance and I wonder what life is like back there, under the waves. Is it still as fast and changing? Would I recognize anyone? Or would they recognize me? I turn my gaze back to my new-found family and find joy in the quiet serenity that surrounds us.