Ellen stared at the snow-capped mountains as if she were seeing them for the first time, but she had been staring at them all her life; in fact, she had never been outside of the little valley where she grew up.

"Whatchya looking at?" asked Rhonda, Ellen's brother's wife.

"The mountains."

"What about the mountains?"

"Just the mountains." After saying that, Ellen turned to her sister-in-law who was hanging laundry. "Don't you look up at the mountains?"

"Ellen, you can't help but see those mountains no matter where you are around here. I've been lookin' at them ever since I can remember." Rhonda put a clothes pin in her mouth as she flapped a blouse in the wind to get something off of it. She then resumed hanging clothes.

"What do you see when you look at the mountains, Rhonda?"

Rhonda froze. Slowly, she turned towards Ellen. Slinging an article of clothing over her shoulder, she walked slowly over to her. Putting her hands on her hips and tilting her head to the side, she replied, "I see mountains, Ellen. I see mountains. And you know what else I see? I see laundry. That's the difference between you and me; I see mountains and laundry and you only see mountains." With this, Rhonda twirled around and returned to her spot on the clothesline.

Ellen glanced at the mountains quickly then walked over to where Rhonda was hanging clothes. Bending over the laundry basket on the ground, she scooped up an armful of socks then she scooped up a handful of clothes pins from a little metal bucket. She then proceeded to hang socks on the clothes line a few feet down from Rhonda.

The women hung clothes in silence. The mountains were still visible to Ellen behind the socks she was hanging. Her motions were perfunctory as she pinned the socks to the line. Her attention was on the mountains. She slowly moved to her left with each new sock. Rhonda was to her left, moving towards Ellen.

When they finally met, Rhonda turned to Ellen and asked, "Okay, so what do you see when you look at the mountains?"

Ellen was about to hang a sock, but that would have obscured her view of the mountains. Her hands dropped as she began to answer Rhonda, but her gaze remained fixed on the mountains:

"I see beauty and perfection. I see a sculpture and I cannot help but wonder about the creator of it. I feel I can connect with the creator of the sculpture through the sculpture. There's a grandness in the mountains that speaks of the grandness of the universe. The mountains are rocky and rugged, but to me there is nothing gentler in the world. There is a softness like the face of a baby. The mountains reflect back to me all the textures of life. And they seem to hold feelings that I can connect to. There is a majestic grandness to them, but at the same time, as seen from the heavens, they seem so vulnerable; vulnerable to the wind and the weather and the atmosphere and from whatever comes from space. They are open and vulnerable to all the elements; they don't resist except in the solidity of their character. Though they are a sculpture of perfection, they remain a work in progress, just like everything."

"When I look at the mountains, my soul is pulled to their summits. I can feel the mountains. They are a living sculpture and I try to touch their soul. When I look at the mountains I think that the same creator who created those mountains also created me, and I wonder how two very different things can come from the same source. But when I stare at the mountains I can almost see them drawing energy from the source and I try to emulate that. I connect with that source as I look at the mountains connecting to the source in their own way."

"And then I think about how the mountains are in a constant state of change--even though they pretty much look the same. As a sculpture created by the same source, I, too, am in a state of constant change. I am also affected by my environment and the elements. The mountains show me how to go with the flow of change, yet remain strong and secure."

"And when I look at the mountains, I am reminded what an act of pure love it was on the part of the source--or creator--to bring the universe into existence. An act of love like that imparts that love into everything that is created, so everything in the universe is made of love. Those mountains were built with pure raw love, and sometimes when I stare at the mountains I can tune into that love. I am reminded that I was created with the same pure raw love as those mountains, but I don't tune into it enough. Seeing that pure raw love in the mountains helps me see it in myself and in everything else."

Ellen suddenly turned to face Rhonda, "The problem with you is that you've been looking at the mountains for a few dozen years, but you've never seen them." She then looked down at the sock in her hand, "And my problem is that I have not yet been able to see the pure raw love in a sock."

Silently, Ellen finished hanging the socks while Rhonda stood transfixed, staring at her. After the last sock was hung, Ellen picked up the laundry basket and bucket of pins and walked off towards the house. She walked slowly but spritely. She almost floated over the ground.