Then I found that the current absence of "deepness" from my everyday musings sort of reinforces an idea I had, and I managed to finish a post after all:
Much is made of the mountaintop experience. That perfect day, that sublime moment, when all was right with the world and you are the recipient of all wisdom from a loving Creator with whom you have perfect communion. We yearn after these moments--the victory and joy--and we are wisely warned that such moments as these are no firm foundation for a lasting faith.
Because such moments are fleeting, and tomorrow, the descent into the valley begins again. And then, the climb to the next mountain. Our mountaintop experiences are shaped by the climb that got us there.
Sometimes, we think we're on a valley floor that will never end, a ravine with no available ascent on either side. Then suddenly the surrounding cliffs will part and we'll find ourselves on a mountain plain with a gentle climb on grassy slopes. Sometimes the way up is a nearly vertical climb, or even a negative incline, and every moment counts and requires our utmost effort, but the view from the top allows us to see our path for miles ahead.
The most important lesson I tell myself on the climb that makes up the greater share of my life is this: For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Whether climbing or taking in the view, the love of God is right there beside me.