| I live in a city of really quite extraordinary beauty. Cape Town, in South Africa, has to be one of the prettiest cities in the world – we have white beaches, blue seas, wide open skies, forests, zebras grazing along the side of the highway (really), and, of course, the mountain. Table Mountain. Little sister to which is Lion’s Head, one of the favourite hiking spots for Capetonians and visitors alike.
Since I moved here, a little over two years ago, I have heard people speak (in hushed tones) about the wonders of climbing Lion’s Head at full moon. “You can see the sun set and the moon rise… at the same time!” they said to me. “It’s extraordinary.”
But somehow each month’s full moon came and went. My man and I had other plans, or we were tired, or we were on holiday, and without really noticing, the months slid into each other and we never seemed to make the climb.
Until last Saturday.
Here was a night perfect for climbing a mountain by full moon. It was strangely warm for autumn, there was no wind, the night sky was poised for beauty. We kitted up and made sure we had supplies (tea in a flask, cookies for sustenance, water for hydration) and started climbing. Lion’s Head is a beautiful climb – steep, but rewarding, with indigenous flowers and plants all around, and the most amazing views out over the ocean. We saw the sun set in a blaze of red and orange, and shoot streaks across the sky. We chatted. We laughed. We panted. We took our time and soaked up the beauty.
What was so interesting, though, was that as my man and I were walking up the mountain, we kept being overtaken by people rushing to get to the top. They were so intent on reaching the top of the mountain in time to see the moon rise that they didn’t even glance out to their left or right at any of the surrounding beauty. They had to keep focused on the path ahead or they would trip and fall. There was no time for distractions.
Only, if a walk up a mountain on a Saturday evening doesn’t allow time for distractions, when does?
After about an hour of walking, we rounded a corner and there it was, in front of us. A giant full moon, rising over the city and casting its surreal glow over the mountain and all of us on it. On our left hand side the last of the colour was leaking out of the sunset, on our right the moon was pulling out all the stops. We weren’t at the top of the mountain, not anywhere near the top in fact, but we had a stunning view and we wanted to drink it in. So my man and I found a spot to sit, unpacked our goodies and had a little tea-and-cookies picnic while we watched the full moon continue to rise over the city. It was, as promised, extraordinary.
As we sat there, soaking in the extraordinary in an otherwise ordinary day, we saw all the people who had overtaken us on the way up the mountain rushing down it, again too intent on the path ahead to take note of the beauty all around them.
And it made me think about how often this happens in everyday life.
Our heads are so full of to-do lists, our minds so busy thinking about what needs to be done next, or what so-and-so said to us, or how much we wish we could be somewhere else, doing something else, that we don’t notice the beauty surrounding us. We are so intent on reaching the top of the mountain, by hook or by crook, that we don’t recognize the worth in taking life a little slower.
Yes, there are some mountains that need to be summited. But there are others that are placed in our lives merely for the challenge and adventure of it. Because we didn’t only come here to get things done. We came here for the living of some life… And if we happen to stumble across the extraordinary while we’re living it, so much the better.
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Bridget McNulty is a passionate writer inspired by why people act the way they do. Her first novel, Strange Nervous Laughter, has just been published in the USA. Find out more, listen to podcasts from the book, or watch the book trailer at www.bridgetmcnulty.com. Or join in the International First Love Day celebrations this Friday, the 15th of May.
Bridget is a guest writer for This Ordinary Day. If you would like to be a guest writer, please click here.
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May 13th, 2009 at 2:10 pm
What a wonderful story! Thanks for sharing.