At 15,800 ft above sea level in Nepal, there is a
graveyard. It’s a set of stone cairns
with little signs on each, identifying the occupants and for efficiency
purposes of stone carvings, a short word or two on why the are there. Draped across them are Buddhist prayer flags,
signalling the significance of each passing flicker that was briefly a life
lived. It’s a solemn place, a peaceful
place and a windy place. The wind and flags tell a story that the stone cannot – it speaks of the turmoil of their final days
and the constant that holds them together – the drive to stand atop the highest
peak helping themselves or others to realize meaning from the top of the world.
It is in many ways the perfect graveyard, for it celebrates
those that tried and gave it their all – literally. A gathering of Nobel prize winners that
stumbled in their quest for greatness would be its equal, but this small place,
isolated from all except those that tread in the same footsteps and dream the
same dream is celebrated by the few.
The stones carry names of legends… Each merits their own
story, and each story deserves to be told.
But on any cold and windy day the stone cairns stand resolute against
the surrounding peaks, saying these souls, these people too were mountains in
their own right, and they belong here amongst the cathedral of the gods.
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