Between Breath and Stone

There is a height where the air thins and the world below ceases to exist. You stand on the edge of something that has no name, watching the vapor gather in the hollows. It is a quiet, heavy silence. Down there, people are moving, talking, living their lives in the noise. Up here, there is only the slow movement of the white tide against the rock. We spend our years trying to climb, trying to reach the summit, believing that the view will explain the struggle. But the summit offers no answers. It only offers distance. You look down and see the softness of the clouds, a blanket for the earth, and you realize how little of the world you actually touch. We are always suspended, aren’t we? Waiting for the mist to clear, or perhaps hoping it never does. What remains when the ground is hidden from view?

Ryszard Wierzbicki has captured this stillness in his image titled Cloudy Carpet. It is a reminder of the space that exists between the earth and the sky. Does it make you feel small, or does it make you feel free?