August 12th, 2010
Red sand.
Ice-covered slopes.
I climbed Fuji-san
with a sad song in my heart
and hope in my eardrums….
It’s almost as though I was leaving my past behind at the foot of the mountain. Daring myself to rise above it all.
To rise above this broken year
and to realize the weight of these words
upon the bridge called my back.
The higher the altitude,
the thinner the air,
it became harder to breathe.
I began to dream out loud while adjusting my head-lamp in the dark.
Every rock and every outcropping along the way
turned into symbolism as I made the ascent upwards.
Reminders of the troubles that I have encountered
head on.
turned into symbolism as I made the ascent upwards.
Reminders of the troubles that I have encountered
head on.
Fuji had taunted me
“Come, climb me”.
I put too many things on hold
when it came time to hold on tighter,
the rope became a noose around my neck.
“Come, climb me”.
I put too many things on hold
when it came time to hold on tighter,
the rope became a noose around my neck.
The inky black night betrayed by shooting stars
I stumbled on and on
in brand new hiking boots bought in North Tokyo.
Every bottle of water that I consumed
fueled my dream engine towards the summit.
John Lennon once told me that life is what happens to you
while you are busy making plans.
that adventure finds you when you least expect it
you must embrace like a long-lost cousin.
I stumbled on and on
in brand new hiking boots bought in North Tokyo.
Every bottle of water that I consumed
fueled my dream engine towards the summit.
John Lennon once told me that life is what happens to you
while you are busy making plans.
that adventure finds you when you least expect it
you must embrace like a long-lost cousin.
Words and feelings came out of me
when I saw the night sky
overhead the city lights of Fuji City.
The clouds looked like ivory quilts
blanketing the landscape
comforting me with the aesthetic
of climbing in the dark.
when I saw the night sky
overhead the city lights of Fuji City.
The clouds looked like ivory quilts
blanketing the landscape
comforting me with the aesthetic
of climbing in the dark.
Clad in a Swiss backpack given to me in Bangkok,
a Japanese Uniqlo shell jacket,
worn-out denim Levi’s
...and a red handkerchief tied around my neck
I felt like a bandit trying to escape exactly what ailed me that year. Altitude sickness did not overcome me as much as a sense of knowing that I knew I had to process this climb later and the importance of it.
a Japanese Uniqlo shell jacket,
worn-out denim Levi’s
...and a red handkerchief tied around my neck
I felt like a bandit trying to escape exactly what ailed me that year. Altitude sickness did not overcome me as much as a sense of knowing that I knew I had to process this climb later and the importance of it.
I had failed to chronicle this year in words, but mostly did it through wine and song. Fuji-yama had challenged me to start writing again the way musicians improvise with their instruments. I had sorely missed engaging in the written word for solace or for enjoyment.
As I reached the top of the summit, it felt a bit anti-climatic due to the massive crowd assembled up there. My Japanese and Danish companions disappeared in the mob trying to fight it out for the best view of the morning sunrise.
I sat nestled on a rock formation trying to capture my breath.
Looking over the crest of the summit into the white billowing clouds, I felt as though I could the see the edge of forever....
**********************************
np: Andhéri - "Hvernig á að særa vini sína"
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