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The Mountain; (C)1994, (C)2005 A. Alexander Volenski.

An August visit to Mount Rainier National Park;
a nature book in 8-chapters.

Unedited selections from chapters 1 and 2.

Chapter 1, Timelines.

  The mountain has a very smooth feel to it compared to other 
mountains I've seen.  Soft plush feelings, and upon the silky snow, 
graceful curves are shown that sprinkle the mind with pleasing and 
even passionate thoughts.
  Mount Rainier stands at 14,411 feet, and projects itself with a 
very uniform visual intensity.  Grand it rises within a guise of 
nobility and character as being one of the great volcanoes of the 
world.  It definitely is in a class with Fuji Yama, Popocatepetl, and 
Vesuvius.
  Whether in Japan, Mexico, or Italy, these mighty living 
achievements of shaped terrain, posed in natural formation, are a 
vital reminder that a presence resides amongst us which possesses 
superior devastating power...
  ...The Indians refer to Mount Rainier as 'Tacoma,' 'Tahoma,' there 
are various spellings.  This name they gave to all dignified peaks 
which rise up above all others, and some Native American's refer to 
this mountain as feminine, some as masculine.  That depended I 
suppose upon their own concept at the time and place they were.
  The bright lofty zenith of the mountain with its airy snow dunes 
curved and receptive, flexible and adaptable, laid in gentle slope 
and seemed to radiate a feminine spirited semblance.  At least I 
perceived this beautiful peak that way.  It is very difficult to 
comprehend the size of the mountain as one beholds its splendor.  The 
magnitude (range) and massiveness of terrain plays upon the human 
mind's ability to realize proportion.  Landscape and sweeping 
'panoramas' one moment appear fixed in deduction, and the next 
moment, size and shape elude the calculating sense, sending it toward 
a probing and  inquiring domain which contains uncertainty, quandary, 
and even suspense.  The enigmatical sensation one may gather from a 
momentary view of Mount Rainier, seems to turn and swirl back toward 
self, and the query of the mounatin turns into a query of self.  A 
pilgrimage then begins of many paths and miles, all presented within 
an authentic presence.
  Passion alive and real, pure and natural, surged within me as I 
looked upon the mountain, strong and direct it came.  A passion 
similar to when I view a beautiful and sensuous woman, for there too 
do I find a-comparable often mysterious appealing quality.  Passion 
exotic and unusual, clothed within an aura of wild emotion, beautiful 
and earthly complete.  A passion freely transposing as it reached and 
swam within the gentle confines of my embodiment.  Passion energetic, 
endowing and providing, poured forth with unlimited delight, like the 
surging creeks and streams of watery ways which tumble from the 
heights above.  Aqueous sparkle soothing embracing tantalizing, 
kissing with organic bliss, the meadowy hills and forested expanse.
  Hiking near, I drank from one of those streams with poured out from 
above, and the water tasted soft and filling like a kiss.  A clean 
and soothing taste, and with that sip from liquid fountain a fondness 
began to awaken within me, as the spiritual and natural character of 
this region seemed to reach deep inside, bringing alive new 
inspiration and desire; appealing and spontaneous it came to me.
  Driving along toward the White River campground where I would stay 
while visiting, I thought of the many other visitors seen along the 
way and how they too expressed and conveyed similar if not the same 
emotions and passions which I had experienced.  I knew these first
impressions which I observed were genuinely present and shared by all.
  The next morning, the dim light of early dawn hovered quietly as 
light of new day wavered and then brightened.  Clear and vibrant I 
saw Mount Rainier the next day as the warm sun of summer touched its 
peak.  The rising sun came as a radiant sheen of color which covered 
the entire mountain.  A sudden tint emerged as the white snow 
everywhere began to glow brightly pink.  That flash of color seemed 
to grow as though it were a living substance, and as the moments 
passed the crimson brightened to a deep royal pink.  Very stunning 
the pink sunrise glow, it seemed unreal almost like an illusion.  
Then I asked myself in a not to serious way 'if this spray of color 
was a reality,' of course it was, for here I reminded myself, lived 
immense natural beauty on an original grand scale with unlimited 
power.
  From this phenomenon (pink sunrise glow) a doorway seemed to open 
within my understanding, as imagination and subtle reflections raced 
to gain actuallity, and to that entrance I stepped freely without 
hesitation.  For I knew that moments like these with colorful glow 
upon mountainous stance, would not appear very often and very rare.  
This display was like one of those scarce scant moments in life when 
everything seems to have met at the right time and place.  The 
doorway I imagined was only present here at this very point in time 
and would not be found anywhere else.  This new gateway felt good, 
and as I gazed to the mountain I began to realize and perceive that 
an aligned natural sovereignty must truly exist here, one of sterness 
bold and prominently open.  One which would utilize every aspect of 
reflected earthy even wild expression.  To me this was provocative 
and intriguing, seductive and irresistible.  I felt excitment being 
aroused as eyes, mind, imagination, seemed to become hypnotized by 
this plush rosy visual blush being presented to me.  Crimson flame 
rosiness glow, spectacular redden in a rush of tempered overwhelm, 
scarlet flush sprayed by light, shining fire of the sun, and I could 
feel my heart seem to slow into a drifting wild rhythmic dance.
  This was a mountain filled with flaming endurance, perhaps like
a flame of love may be, with all its unpredictability and potency I
mused to myself, following the thought of glowing flame, volcanic 
core, pink reflected sun (at sunrise), even love; and knew I must 
watch for a parallel, even a spirit likeness entwined interwoven here 
within natures design.
  The displayed rosy flare upon this snowy peak with all its elements 
in silent fortitude, as expressed in these first moments, came as a 
reflection not harsh or coarse, but as a discreet, even peaceful 
manifestation.  I rationalized that a trueness resided here near the 
mountain which one could learn and share with their own 
individuality.  This brief contemplation though momentary, stuck firm 
in my sensitivity.
  While I stood alone in the cool morning air observing the flushed 
pink glow exhibited by the rising sun, a thought came to take a 
picture of this moment, yet no camera did I have.  As that thought to 
capture on film passed through my mind, traveling that invisible path 
of perception, a feeling of mildness washed over my body, and I 
suddenly felt warm within the surrounding chill of morning air.  Then 
quickly as though a lofty blanket or gown of day were lifted up to 
block the light, the pink beamed from the rising sun, disappeared.  
The pinks vanished suddenly as though these moments of sunrise,
unanticipated and unpredictable as expressed, were given only for 
memory.  It was then that I spoke to myself, "ah, sweet memory, oh, 
sweet mountain, what can you tell me of your beginning?"
  Then at that instant, a small cloudy mist appeared over one of the 
huge glaciers, and moved rapidly to obscure my observation of those 
heights, and from that manifested move, I knew that the mountain's 
past, and even love, would not be granted or shown easily.  Coy, shy, 
tempting, changing, modifying view minute by minute, the mountain 
seemed vivacious and alive as it stood in complemented fashion with 
its 'immortal companions' atmosphere and sun.  It was at that moment 
that the human nature within me felt a new undefinable emotion spring 
free, as though a contemporary passion had been awakened.
  When mid-morning arrived I took a short hike on one of the trails 
from my campground, to have a look around and familiarize myself with 
the area.  The trail I was on led to Glacier Basin and the mountain 
itself.  There was a turn a few miles up that went to a viewpoint 
which overlooked the Emmons Glacier moraine.  After taking that turn 
I reached the moraine viewpoint and saw a wide and long open expanse, 
an immense pathway gorged out by the massive glacier.  I walked down 
into that rubble and debris to do some exploring.  As I walked among 
the boulders and rocky mass I passed by small glacier ponds and felt 
very alone.  Yet it seemed that someone was there with me, someone
who watched how I moved; I embraced that thought.
  The moraine was very wide and like a barren landscape with large
boulders scattered about in random formation; small pebbles, sharp
and jagged rock, boulders, and rounded stones of all sizes lay 
everywhere, a place also lacking vegetation, and it would probably
remain that way for eon's.  The rocky expanse looked like a huge 
construction site the way the dirt and rock were scattered; 
development on a massive scale, and who knew how it would look when 
the glacier came again to rearrange.  Very windswept and desolate 
this site seemed to be where only a few little plants and trees grew, 
yet in centuries that all would change.
  Sitting upon a large boulder, I tried to imagine or gather a 
glimpse of some of the turmoil that had resided here over time.  The 
moraine I estimated might reach a mile wide with the White River 
streaming in steady style through the center.  Like a giant causeway 
this all seemed, where powerful forces of ice and snow opened, moved, 
cut, pushed and tore everything in its path.  Relentless upheaval, 
power vast and unswerving, weight massive and crushing, as icy 
dominion ruled all beneath and near its expanse.
  Getting up I walked further into the center of the fragmented 
moraine and after a ways I stopped, it was now mid-day.  Looking up 
to Mount Rainier and to the left, I saw Little Tahoma Peak, and then 
back to center in the forefront, the Emmons Glacier, and above, the 
lofty summit of the mountain itself.  All was in full view as I stood 
there, and lifting my hands toward the sky, I spoke asking, "please 
let me know the mystery about you."  The sky was clear blue, not a 
cloud anywhere, and the crowning summit white and bright.  A warm 
breeze blew against me as it came down from the ridges there; that 
evening I had a clear and vivid dream.
  There appeared an older woman dressed in white with a grey dark
color to her hair, like the color of some of the rock upon the 
mountain.  She stood on my left and was speaking to a young woman
on my right, and she said to her, "be careful, for he is Time."
Then the older woman disappeared, and as I stood still, the young
woman moved close to me.
  She was dressed in a blue gown like the color of the sky, and she
smiled at me with a joyous smile, one with a touch of love.  Her face
was pretty and like the color of the moon, and her features rounded
and soft, her hair the color of drifting white clouds in summer sky.
She reached out her hand and took mine.  As she took hold she moved
closer, and I looked into her eyes that were the color of deep
sappire blue, and I could read her thoughts, and they were loving
thoughts filled with a great giving, thoughts of wonder about the man
I am, and I knew she wanted to share her feelings and I felt pleased.
  Then she looked down and likewise so did I, and I saw a white 
stairway, one with a multitude of steps which extended downward
beyond my sight, and on the right of the stair there was what appeared
to be a black hand rail.  I didn't move from where I stood next to 
her, yet wondered about the stairway, and looked to her feet where 
her gown touched ankles.  The shoes she wore were very unique and 
unlike any that I have ever seen.  Then she spoke to me with her mind 
and said, "I am here if you want to reach me."  At that moment my 
sight was transfixed to the stairway, and as I looked down this long 
and endless stair, it was then that I awoke.
  Opening my eyes where I lay in my sleeping bag, I saw the dim light 
of early morning and breathed in the air that was chilled.  I 
recalled the event with the young woman and felt the nip in the air, 
and inside felt a fever as though my blood were heated; my head felt 
misty, eyes blurred a little, then they cleared as I focused.  I 
meditated upon inner thoughts, but did not clarify them, leaving all 
open to be all it could be, letting my mind float within the meadow 
of this remembered dream.  I hoped this woman dressed in blue with 
hair the color of drifting white clouds in summer sky, would know 
that I knew, and remembered that I was there with her and felt her 
touch (a warm touch) and knew the gentle love she could be.
  For now that was how I would leave this conception imprinted upon 
my mind and reasoning, and as I recalled this event over the days to 
come, I would enjoy its temperament and embrace all with and as, 'the 
mountain,' Mount Rainier.

~

Unedited excerpt Chapter 2

Light Messages.

"So it seems," she said,
as we walked in among the rough,
"that you and me
should dream a dream
where few have seen
the stream."

I could not tell how long it lasted,
nor know where we might be,
yet in this place 
that seemed like space,
I knew we both
were free.

Then as we walked
upon the land
and viewed the greens
so green,
she asked me if 
perhaps by chance,
we two might meet
again.

This land upon which
we both now stood,
was earth and trees
and rock,
and seemed secured within
an absolute,
where awareness
is so true,
and we realized too,
this all
was very new.

T'was different
this site,
yet tangible full,
t'was touchable
actual and obvious,
much like a world
that I did know,
secluded beneath
a sky of blue...

This sky was clear
seemed very near,
the air was fresh
and light,
it was as though
we were upon,
a sphere of mere
delight.

I looked to her
and realized then,
there were some things
that I must say,
"the real you see
from where I come,
where body, mind, and self,
breathe awhile
love awhile,
touch and see and do,
is an abode
you may not want
to do the things 
you do,
so when you ask me,
'will we meet anew,'
I really cannot say,
for when I awake
from this dream,
it is there
that I will be."

Her eyes were clear
her hand was near,
her mind was open too,
then she moved
and touched my brow,
her fingers warm
so smooth,
and she smiled
and spoke to me,
with words
that seemed to true.

"I can tell you this
in truth and love,
your memory I shall hold,
within my mind
and inner self,
a love so sweet
yet bold,
and as you dream
I hope to find,
you coming here to me,
to share awhile
your truth and mind,
to help us both
be free."

I looked to her and answered thus,
yet few words did I now have,
"as I walk
and move my feet,
made to travel time,
your memory shall
remain with me,
within 
my silent mind,
for as we are
in life complex,
living as we do,
our meeting here
shared with the moon,
shall live
forever new."

She looked at me
as she listened too,
of words and thoughts
we had,
she seemed so alert,
and her eyes were clear
and soft,
her hands so very smooth,
and I yearned to know
much more of her,
in form and body too,
yet knew inside
such things as those,
weren't yet for us 
to do.

She smiled at me
because she knew,
the feelings that
I had,
and whispered back
into my ear,
"your existence is so dear,
I wish we could be near."

Emotion stirred
within me so,
I felt a tremor
cold,
but did not make
this point to her,
which lingered
to my toes.

Then she said
with a mellow soft voice,
"come with me
if you want,"
and breathing there
where I stood,
I wondered how
I may,
and knew that truth
in of itself,
could surely
only say.

There in dream
the land so free,
where truth is shared
by all,
some create a bridge
to link across,
to places
that are known.

A site abides
where love resides,
and all are free to go,
if only as
upon the way,
they let
their feelings show.

We beheld out meeting
was meant to be,
our life a plan
to be achieved,
and as we advanced
to meet again,
it's there we shall
both know,
that life as now
as time does pass,
is merely spent
to find at last,
what we
both truly knew...

For hidden in the simpleness
which life seems all to be,
is the heart and truth we have
that speaks to us so free,
and if we listen search and find
what's neatly held within,
we're sure to see within ourselves
the way that's always been,
and come at last
to a realm
which truly always is.

We looked to each
both standing there,
all was so clear and real,
senses alive and open,
and as we saw the fading come
as misty air did rise,
we knew this span
of shifting sway,
was soon to send
us both,
to our separate days.

So we two reluctantly
braced for parting so,
and as I released her hand so smooth
she gazed in silence too...

Parting dreams
are hard to do,
when love is clear
and true,
but to us both
in memory fine,
this dream would be
infused,
which came to us within the light
of calm and silent moon.

~
[Next, chapter 3, Glacier Basin;
note: this text is yet to be proof read].

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