Hmmm...and so, the argument got sooooo heated, that all of the snow melted, and the silence that everyone had enjoyed momentarily was broken by the age old debate of who really was the strongest..
The man brought machines in; and the mountain exposed his granite. The man stood back puzzled, angered, and went to get dynamite. He furiously loaded the sticks, lit them, and huge portions of the mountain fell away, but still it stood.
Years went by, and the man sweated away profusley, trying to prove he could conquer the mountain with his strength. Meanwhile, he had forgotten to eat; he no longer looked his former self and began to feel quite ill. The mountain too, had been badgered and bombed into rubble at his feet. Both looking tired, and feeling worse, the man sat at the edge of the mountain. The mountain, having been around far longer than man, knew defeat was imminent. But, did he roll himself in the delight? Did he laugh and shout that victory was his? No. Instead, the mountain spoke one last time to the man.
"Does it really matter who is the strongest? Is it not more important to simply be?"
And the man, after sitting and thinking for a short time, and nearly broken in spirit, said nothing, but began to replace the rocks and small stones at the feet of the giant mountain.
The same twenty years he spent taking away, he gave back. Sweat and blood and energy, back to the mountain, and back to himself. The mountain began to flourish once again, and so did the man. His strength came back, as he was working towards something, with something. His spirit became soft and real, and whole again.
No more did the people in the valley below hear the thunderous roar of noise and hatred coming from the mountain, nor the man, and peace became abundant once more.
Sorry Joe, but when I read this, it all came tumbling back out not as a comment but in a little story...I liked this idea a lot, as you can tell, lololl..
Apologies, the short version produced massive thinking here, lol..