The Weight of Stone
A mountain does not ask to be seen. It simply is. It occupies space with a gravity that humbles the restless. We spend our lives moving, shifting, trying to find a place where we might finally settle, yet the earth beneath us remains indifferent to our hurry. There is a specific kind of silence that lives in high places, a stillness that predates our arrival and will surely outlast our departure. It is not a cold silence, but a heavy one. It demands nothing. It offers no explanations for its height or its shadow. To stand before such a thing is to realize how much of our own noise is unnecessary. We speak to fill the gaps, to convince ourselves that we are here, that we matter. But the stone does not speak. It waits. It holds the sky. What happens when we stop trying to name the things that are larger than ourselves?
Phillip Biboso has captured this quiet endurance in his image titled Mt. Matutum. It reminds me that some things are best left standing in the dark. Does the mountain feel lighter now that it has been seen?
