#the mountain

why's my voice not strong now? it's been cut / and silenced now by this dread

A 'Moderate' hike was the prescribed label, a view and green the relief.

My partner asked me in earnest if I thought I could do it, excited to surpass the last few climbs, 'Easy'. I have done Moderate hikes before this one, in fact I've done hikes that I believe were more difficult than this. You must understand how broken my body feels, and has become, in only a year's time.

So of course, I am the daughter of Jove, always doing those 'glorious' things, this should be feasible. My mind decides before checking in with my body, my mind decides based on the logic that I had done this before.

When I say I hobbled the last mile, I am not being hyperbolic (though that is typically the case). Both heels and toes pinching with fat blisters, ankles and calves rigid and tight without the confidence the previous mile held. A back swaying with the breeze, curved sharp scythe digging into the meat.

The trail was a loop, yes, but I would argue the climbing down was steeper, rockier, wilder, and sharper than the way up. Up you have things to hold, grab, roots, wayward treelings, hands. Down there is less, and short of both crawling and sliding, the risk of tumbling builds. I am not unfamiliar with tumbling, but the torn edges of boulders do not make for confident footholds.

Luckily for me, I am easily distractable. Most especially so if I am surrounded by beautiful forests and plants. I found the lowland blueberries quickly, as I had been practicing identifying them in our yard at home and around. It wasn't until we climbed about halfway that I saw fruit on the bushes. Tiny blue, purple, and green beads tossed along the trail, blending in against their dense foliage.

I took two at first, one for each of us, and we ate them together, in the same moment. Just one berry held more flavor and texture than the dozen pints from Canada, 15 miles off in the local supermarket. Slick with sweat, swatting lazily at flies and mosquitos, I looked forward to the next blueberry. I continued on like this up the mountain, stopping periodically to savor a single blueberry.

While we were having a 'gas station snack' picnic at the top (Pistachios, Protein Cookie, Granola Bar, Jerky) I thought for a little while about the blueberries.

As we packed up our trash, and the trash of some strangers, my partner looked over at me. He watched me pour the last quarter of my water out onto the nearby blueberry plant. He looked dumbfounded.

"We still have to hike ALL the way back down. Do you have any more water?"

"No."

I still don't think he fully understands, but in that moment I did.

The routine of the practice, cleaning the space, cleaning the dishware, the utensils, placing the offering. Saying the words. The smoke. The bells. The act itself is a part of the offering.

What say you, Mountain?

The act of climbing to a place of shade, enduring, enjoying, sharing. A meal, a feat, a moment, a life. Oh yes, the act itself is a part of the offering. What is a cup of water from the sink, from the well? Yes an offering, yes a useful one. But what is the cost? To me?

I am not suggesting, those rushing ahead, that every offering, or even MOST offerings have to come at some great cost. This to me seems foolish, and overwhelmingly unnecessary.

But I am suggesting that sometimes, especially in times when you're looking for direction or clarity, that you offer more.

I had water in the car, I had just finished quite a bit, and I knew there were blueberries on the way down. I wasn't overly concerned myself, but I did acknowledge there had been risk involved.

What say you, Mountain?

It was an act of devotion, which are not often those of clarity and logic in my experience. I trust in myself, in my partner, in the Mountain. And I got back to the car, eventually, and the water was so sweet. I drank with a thirst that I had not felt in a long time, I drank with such a feeling of thankfulness. I drank with a creeping of guilt. I sat with all of that until I fell asleep.

Life´s too short for weird music Tagesempfehlung 12.04.2026

SAC: Gorillaz / The Mountain

Track: Delirium (feat. Mark E. Smith)

Mit ihrem wohl ambitioniertesten Album kehren Damon Albarn und das Comic-strip Ensemle Gorillaz nur drei Jahre nach dem hochklassigen Cracker Island Album zurück. Auf The Mountainverarbeiten Albarn und Co so tiefgreifende Themen wie Leben, Wiedergeburt und Neu- oder Selbstfindung. Alles eingebettet in einen multikulturellen aber doch immer wieder indisch/asiatisch beeinflußten musikalischen Kontext. Fast schon Tradition musizieren die Gorillaz nicht alleine, sondern haben sich illustre Gäste wie die Sparks, Idles, Johhny Marr und Gruff Rhys eingeladen. Selbst Verstorbene werden auf The Mountain posthum geehrt wie etwa Dennis Hopper, Mark E Stewart oder Tony Allen, die allesamt in Songs gesampelt wurden.The Mountain bietet auf über 65 Minuten Lauflänge, verteilt auf 15 Songs ein opulentes Hörvergnügen ein Rausch an globalen musikalischen Inspirationen. Und immer wenn die Kreativität mit den Gorillaz und den Gästen durchzuknallen scheint, kommt Captain Albarn und bringt das Schiff wieder auf Kurs. Einzelne Stücke hervorzuheben, wäre an dieser Stelle müßig, hören Sie The Mountain am besten in einem Durchlauf um das Kaleidoskope musikalischer Variabilität (ich will nicht immer von Kreativität sprechen) zu erfassen. 

Mit The Mountain zementiert Damon Albarn seinen Ruf als großer musikalischer Philosoph der letzten Jahrzehnte. Und natürlich kann ich es als Zeitzeuge nicht lassen: Popmusikgeschichte belegt doch recht eindeutig, wer den längeren Atem und das größere Talent hatte – die Gallager Brüder sicherlich nicht....

Anspieltipps: Orange County, The Happy Dictator und Delirium

-@adrian-the-a-mountian