offering

I'm writing a story that has to do with Mt. Rainier and it dawns on me I've never been to Mt. Rainier, despite living in Seattle and environs for well over half of my life. I've never been to Mt. St. Helens either, despite being obsessed with it as a child and still being prone to research the history of the mountain every so often.

Why is this? These amazing mountains are in my backyard. There's just no reason. I can feel Mt. Rainier, her vastness and sorrow and beauty and terror. But I only call her Mt. Rainier in public. When I think of her, write of her, speak to myself of her, she is Tahoma.

"Rainier is a shitty beer no one drinks anymore."--Line from the aforementioned story.

I had the most intense vision of sitting on a pile of stones on Tahoma's side, pounding out a beat on a large stone with a human bone. My feet were dirty and the air had cleansed my mind of chatter. Pounding the trance-like beat, hearing the bone strike stone, I realized I was presenting an offering. Thinking on it now, a day removed from the vision, I feel like I finally understand why people are driven to make offerings. Something powerful moves you outside and inside and you are moved to react in a way that has profound personal meaning.

Creation starts as an offering.