Trinity College School - Record Yearbook (Port Hope, Ontario Canada)

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saw a appear to be weak if he sought reconciliation, an ±£d hejwent on for several unpleasant hours until, much to his relief, the tree£ became smaller and fewer as the altitude increased. Somehow as the plants Became smaller they wielded less authority. ¥ ' At last Jose found himself crossing a final stretch of wind dwarfed trees which would give way to close-grown Alpine gras| Kin-nich. “Ah! I’ll soon be there. The,sun is sinking to catch Jmy ey I know I’m coming there. ' % m In the last colours of evening, the man was climbing the rise Of the last crest. The grass had since given way to shale, and the going became tougher, but Jose picked his way determinedly, using all four limbs when he needed them. His goal was in sight and he knew hecould make it. — He looked up into the evening planet and kept his direction the final moment when he pulled himself onto the top of the mountain. At first, when his body demanded too much of his attention, he notice how different a mountain it was. But as the heaving of his body less, and as he looked about him to find what he had come to look realized that the top of the mountain was as perfectly smooth and flat any marble slab. “How strange it is,” he thought, and while he looked upon streaks of moon-light, the air chewed through his body. Then he caught first glimpse of understanding, for he saw lurking underneath the transpare surface gleaming bones and banners of past men. All about him lay signs effects of civilizations he could never have known or comprehended. The surface seemed endless, and its hard covering kept him permanently apart from all that lay beneath his feet, and yet, when he tried to go back to a spot where he had been before, only new instruments and symbols lay there. All he could do was stagger across the surface helplessly, aghast at what he saw. But, even as he could identify nothing of what he saw, he knew by some deep intuitive insight that in everything before him lay dreams and visions possessed by past and present men - dreams and visions that might have launched the world ahead 100,000 years, but now were sterile and un- possessed by man, until in the fields of individual men’s minds they would be dug up once more, and the old would become new. Shaking, Jose knelt on the surface and breathed, “Oh! God, please help me! ‘For now we see through a glass, darkly, but then face to face: . . . now I know in part: but then shall I know even as also I am known.”’. A soft caressing wind soothed his quaking and spoke softly in his ear: “To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour.” .. . “Hold fast to dreams For if they die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly.” . . .

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Then with great precision the little half- breed sprayed through the water as disturb- ingly as possible (like many people, he likes to see how high and far water can be made to go), and he went bounding down a vagrant path. Nature demands its toll on excessive frolicking, however, and Jose, anxious as he was to go on, had to oblige his flesh and come to a breathless walk. “Ah. Jose, you ' re tiring yourself. Sit yee down a while. This mountain won ' t mind . . . Oh, my little heart, so little but so strong. I can feel you pushing blood about me. Oh! such a powerful rhythm. How is it you carry such command? . . . And you, little flowers, so perfect and free- you sit here only to smile at the sun and bow for the wind and rain . . . Well, one last whiff of your perfume and I’ll be on my way through sapphire meadows and the gleaming trees of higher slopes.’’ He was on his feet again and trotting down the trail, driven only by the force at the back of his head. Yet as the day wore on, Jose was wearing out, and with the coming of the midday sun his blind excitement was being enveloped by an oppressing force. Eventually, he staggered his way to a tree whose branches kept watch over the valley stream. Jose clasped one of the tree handles and hung from his hands while he -surveyed the area for his own pleasure. “I have not had breakfast, nor shall I have lunch, but before this day is over, I will know the secret of you.” He ignored the mockery of the chortling waters and carried on with his thinking. “Well, I’ll rest now. I guess a fellow must rest ... I have all the time in the world now, but I must be on my way . . . I’ll just be a minute.” He lay back in the cool green grass. “Good . . . Good,” he thought. But as the sun gathered strength on his face he decided it was not so good and moved into the full shade of the tree he had leaned on moments before. “Hee hee yah! I’m on my way. Yessir, I’m on my way, but I’ll just take it easy for awhile. I have plenty of time, plenty.” Then, after the subsequent two and two-thirds minutes of rest, Jose got up and was off again. He plowed through the brook (disturbing the water at least as much as the time before), and slushed across the gravel of the flood area, onto a hard brown trail in the adjacent forest. Suddenly, the world around him hushed and there, in the silence held by the trees, he heard only the sounds of Jose Lopez. He could hear only the pounding of blood, the growl of his complaining belly, and the trudging of sore feet - all sounds of his own, all sounds of his vitality. “Damn it! Why the silence, you bastard- ly trees? I have come to see your hills and beautiful mountains, but you turn once pleasant ground to cold hard surface ’neath my feet. As I walk with you, I feel myself an intruder, but damn it, I ' m not, and I’m not going to turn back. I will walk on and find myself exactly the place I’m looking for, so stare at me all you like!” Imagine, defeated by trees?! Fiddle- sticks! I’ll carry on,” and Jose carried on uncomfortably under the watch of the silent, solemn plants. Though moved by a strong will, the man wished deep inside that he had not spoken to the trees in such a manner since he felt sure that they were more than amply heeding his invitation to stare at him all they liked. However, he would

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He had no mouth with which to speak, but somewhere within him a warmer fire kindled and thawed the pain within his mind, and as the stars softened in his eyes, his body was at last allowed to sleep. Jose awoke next morning with the appearance of the sun’s first rays. He sat up and looked across the vast stretch of broken shale, and then at the battered and bruised body that was his own. Yet, sore as he was, it was a beautiful morning, clear, blue, with not a cloud in the sky. The pikas chirped and birds spilled out songs for a new day. All the beauties of the new morning lifted Jose ' s spirit to a height it had never known. The mountain was as ordinary as any mountain might be, yet this morning even the broken shale felt good underneath the feet. “I will bless the hills for all of my life and you, dear mountain, you I will remember well. But it is time that I must go, for I know it is time to harvest the corn.”