REFER TO GREY: Contemplations by Robert Greigos © 2007-2024

Father, please tell me about the Spirit in the Mountain.

Now that one, that one my son is an interesting tale. Long, long ago, long before our ancestors ever saw this mountain a spirit roamed the valleys, the forests, and the plains. His job was to gather drops of rain from wherever they fell upon the ground.

And what did he do with them, Father?

His task was to redistribute them wherever they were needed, a most generous and good-hearted deed, which he undertook with great earnestness. And all the grasses and trees and fishes in the streams were very much appreciative of his efforts. But the clouds, now they never were. They thought it a good joke to drop rain just out of reach of everyone. And when the Spirit caught the drops and redistributed them, they were not amused.

So what did they do, Father?

Well, they decided to make life very difficult for the Spirit. They decided to throw bolts of lightening at him as he moved to catch the rain. Flash, flash, flash, and big kabooms rattled the valleys, forests, and plains whenever the rains fell. And everyone feared the Spirit would be harmed and never again be there to redistribute the rain.

And was he?

No, my son, he was not. The Spirit could move very very quickly. And when he saw a bolt of lightening headed his way, he would quite judiciously step behind a large rock. The bolt of lightening crashed into the rock harmlessly and the Spirit was never singed. But the clouds became so very angry that the Spirit found he had little time to collect rain for all the time he spent hiding behind rocks avoiding lightening bolts. It was the rocks that suggested he could hide more effectively in the mountains, and so he did.

And is that the end of the story, Father?

Well, no, not exactly, because when the Spirit moved into the mountains he found he was closer to the clouds, so close he could reach right up and squeeze the rain right out of them, which he then sent tumbling down the mountain sides in tiny streams right to where the water was most needed.

And in winter, Father? What happened in winter time?

In winter, my son, his task was even easier. The clouds became so heavy with snow and ice they could never get over the mountains without first dumping almost all of it on the mountains. Only then could they float over the great heights. And the mountains had no problem holding as much snow as the clouds cared to drop until warmer weather came and the Spirit could redistribute it just where it was needed.

Oh, that's a wonderful story, Father. I hope the Spirit never tires of sending us rain and melted snow in cool clear streams.