As I began to look away, something caught my eye. Something had moved on top of the rock, although I wasn’t sure what. Straining to see, I was barely able to make out the form of a man making his way to the top. I wiped the blood and dirt from my eyes and looked again. Now, seeing more clearly, I realized that he was looking for something. It was easy to see that he had expected something to be there that wasn’t. I could make out little more, other than the fact that he was alone. Yet even from a distance I could tell that this was a man of power and stability, unlike me. This is what drove me closer to him. Slowly, I crawled toward the rock, my eyes never leaving the man. The closer I got to the rock, the less pain I felt, until, at the bas of the rock, I was once again standing. The wind began to blow again, harder than before, but it was easier to keep my footing now that I was standing on the rock.
I stayed at the base for a while, leaning on a tree to brace myself against the wind. I studied the man. I longed to be near him and to learn from him. This one desire drove me on. And so I began the long climb, using the trees and branches to pull myself higher. It seemed that in no time I was halfway to the top. I looked back where I had come from and noticed how much the trees had thinned out; and then, looking ahead I found only a few more between myself and the top. I suddenly realized just how dependant I was becoming on the rock. I placed my face next to the cold stone. I had so much security when I was near the rock and I smiled when I thought about how much I needed it.
Tomorrow: The Man on the Rock – Part III
