You press your palms against a mossy outcropping on an enormous rock and begin to push…
- •At first, the boulder does not move. Then—ever so slightly—it creaks. It starts to roll!
- •You put your back into it. Lower your eyes. Flex your mighty legs.
- •You experience a weariness that would be impossible to explain and yet…something…some elusive feeling of determination urges you onward.
- •A crowd gathers as you work the boulder up the dusty, uneven hill. Men and women shake their heads. Children gape and point. A light wind picks up the hem of your linen breeches and flaps it like a battle flag.
- •Ever upward—squinting into the sun, you shove. You heave.
- •You are a few feet from the top, from that wide, flat place where this boulder may finally come to rest. Where you life will renew. Where you may end your toil and gulp from your wineskin.
- •To push the rock one last turn and find relief from the weight of it, tap here: