Imagine for a moment that you are standing on the peak of a mountain. You can stay there indefinitely, but greater civilization is contained in the valleys below, and to get there you must choose one of the several paths. Each path is unique: some are steep and rocky, some are wide and slope gently, others look winding and grassy, and each leads to a different valley. At the bottom of one path you may find a deep basin with limited access to other civilizations. Another path may lead to a valley so shallow it is nearly a plain, with wide trade routes to and from other valleys. And each valley has not only a pathway in, but a pathway out and up to yet another peak.
The great benefit of mountaintops is the bird’s eye view they offer of the valleys below. The general characteristics of each civilization—their geography, layout, and infrastructure—can all be viewed from a safe distance. But community, fellowship, and support all require decisiveness; you eventually have to chose a path and descend.
Of course, this act of descending from peak to valley usually isn’t, and shouldn’t be a single event. It happens over and over again as your needs and desires drive you from one community to another. This is where I find myself now: standing on the apex of belief and doubt, faith and intellectualism. This is not my first mountaintop (I’ve been climbing for over two years), and it won’t be my last. I’ve heard that mountain climbing is the safest and richest when shared with partners you trust, so I’ve decided to share my experience. My name is Erin.Welcome to Life on the Apex.