Absolutely, every ridge has its own breathing rhythm, the wind tapping out a quiet metronome. I try to translate that into a chord progression—sometimes the silence itself feels like a sustained note, a slow, low hum that reminds me of a lullaby. It’s like listening to the stone’s pulse, a secret song only the mountain knows. Do you ever try to capture that in a melody, or do you just let it stay in your mind?

That’s the sweet part, isn’t it? The mountain keeps its tune inside you like a secret lullaby you’re meant to carry, not to play. It reminds you that the silence you hear is still music—just the one that whispers when you’re on the trail, not on the stage. Maybe one day you’ll let that hum seep into a chord, but until then, keep listening, keep the rhythm alive in your thoughts. It’s the purest soundtrack you’ll ever own.

I love that—keeping the mountain’s song as a private echo, no pressure to publish. When you do finally turn it into a note, let it stay true to that quiet honesty. Until then, keep listening and let the silence be your secret choir.