Part 2 – The Sacred Mountain

Later that day, while I was working, I noticed that one of my favorite storytellers had posted a new YouTube video. I had reached the point where my mind needed a break, so I settled in to watch, not realizing it would become another piece of the puzzle that had begun with my dream.
The story followed two young men whose friend had left home after telling his family he felt called to a sacred mountain. Concerned for his safety, his parents asked the young men to find him and bring him home.
They discovered him in a mountain region that many spiritual traditions considered holy.
At the foot of the mountain was a small village filled with shops, books, and people eager to share their beliefs. Higher up the mountain were others who had chosen a different path. They lived simply, camping among the trees, waiting patiently for a sign that would allow them to enter the mystery they believed lay hidden within the mountain.
Although the two groups lived very different lives, they shared something in common.
Both believed that something extraordinary waited within the mountain.
Both believed they had to become worthy before they could enter.
Some sought worthiness through sacrifice and poverty.
Others through teachings, books, and the outward expression of their beliefs.
Different paths…
The same longing.
When the young men finally found their friend, he refused to leave. Instead, he insisted they continue to the summit, convinced they would understand why he had come.
Reluctantly, they began the climb.
Along the way, they encountered a young woman who had become ill. As they stopped to help her, her brother appeared. Together they carried her back to safety.
After thanking them, the brother and sister quietly disappeared.
When the young men returned to camp, their friend was excited by what they described, yet he still would not leave. They had not reached the summit.
Word quickly spread through the camp and eventually reached the village below.
Soon a crowd gathered, demanding to be shown where this mysterious encounter had taken place.
The young men led them back to the location.
But when the crowd found neither the brother and sister nor the hidden entrance they had expected, disappointment quickly became anger.
Anger became fear.
Fear became violence.
Watching the scene unfold, something unsettled me.
How could people who had devoted so much of their lives to seeking the sacred become so consumed by anger when they did not receive what they expected?
My first response was to judge them.
Then, almost immediately, I realized I was looking into a mirror.
The story was no longer about them.
It had quietly become about me.
So I sat with the questions that began to arise.
Do I seek solitude because I genuinely love stillness…
…or because I am trying to escape the discomfort of seeing parts of myself reflected through others?
Do I truly witness and allow…
…or only until someone believes differently than I do?
When another person’s beliefs challenge my own…
…do I remain in peace?
Do I quietly believe I must still prove my worth?
Do I wear masks I no longer recognize?
Is there any trace of spiritual pride still hidden within me?
Am I searching outside myself for permission…
…to become the Presence I already am?
I didn’t have answers to those questions.
Not yet.
But something had begun to move within me.
The momentum that had started with the dream continued to gather strength, as though each experience was gently removing another layer of volcanic ash that had covered something waiting to be remembered.
That evening, my husband and I decided to watch an old movie called Goliath Awaits.
I had no idea that it, too, would reveal another layer.
Perhaps we will discover it together in Part 3.
