Descent into Life

Wheatstone is over, done, fin.  We were living on the mountain, now we must descend into the fog and blurred vision and rough, uneven terrain of everyday life.  On the mountain, high above the clouds, everything was vivid, clear, reality was not only in sight but in reach.  We could see, hear, touch, and taste real things, not just a shadow through the mists.  People were so real, so vibrant, so alive, on this mountain.  Without distraction or external cares, with nothing to worry but the burdens each one carried themselves, each sorrow and joy, each failure and triumph, was magnified a thousand times and shaped and molded us.  On the mountain, beauty was everywhere, in art, in music, in our companions most of all.  To quote Dr. Reynolds, people were so alive and wonderful that all you could do was to exclaim through tears of joy "My God!  The very face of God!"  Joy was there, up on the mountain, and so was grief.  But then, as always, we began the long descent into the real world.  Though reality was on the mountain, we can not bear reality for very long.  We all must come down from the mountain, through the fog and smog and rocky paths back to the world we live in.  Sometimes, the fog is so thick that we can barely see, barely remember what beauty was atop the mountain.  We become discouraged, tired, unwilling to go on.  But when we need it most, a song, a sunset, a smile remind us of the beauty we could touch and taste on the mountain, and we take courage and press on.  Living below the mountain, let us never forget what we saw.  After beholding such raw glory, beauty, and pain, we must carry that memory with us always, strengthening and spurring us onward until we ascend the mountain once more.  For "All shall be well and/ All manner of thing shall be well/ When the tongues of flame are in-folded/ Into the crowned knot of fire/ And the fire and the rose are one."