I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.

We seem to always think of our distant ancestors as looking to storms on the mountains with fear and trepidation, an unknown and unfamiliar sight that could only lead to bad things happening.  Are we so fearful as a race that this is our default position, to grant our forefathers only the negative aspects of a relationship with nature?  I’m thinking it’s only half the story.  There must have been people who also looked up and saw the same image only to marvel at the sight.  The brilliance of the clouds, the ruggedness of the mountainside, the way the light played across the surface of both revealing details not apparent at other times.  Where are their stories, their art, their anticipation of a positive future coming from this meeting of sky and earth?

They were incorporated into religions, that’s where.


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