The Mountain
Many years ago, when the earth was younger and the sky still owned her secrets, an old man grew tired of the endless petty squabbles of his neighbours and decided to climb to the top of a mountain to start a new life. It was jagged and cruel and the sharp stones that clung to its sides bit jealously at his feet, but he struggled to the summit nonetheless, for he dearly desired to escape the houses that huddled like a conspiracy in the valley below. He lived happily for a time in peace high above the valley, his hair long and tangled, his leathery skin paprika-stained by the unguarded sun, until one day a ragged visitor came.
"I'm tired of the selfish ways they have down there," he said, "Teach me to live in harmony as you do."
And so the old man led the visitor to a quiet spot on the other side of the mountain, to a place where he could live as himself. Now and then the visitor would come to speak with him, and they would greet each other if they found themselves gathering water from the stream at the same time, but the old man was still fairly solitary, and so he remained happy.
Then one day another visitor came, his clothes frayed and the soles of his feet bleeding from the journey.
"I need to get away from those fools down in the valley, and I heard that you own the secret to tranquility" he said, "Will you help me?"
And so the old man found him a peaceful spot where he could be himself, which was admittedly a little closer to his own than he would have liked, before returning to his own hermitic life. Inevitably, the other two visitors and he encountered each other from time to time, and more than once the old man saw from a distance his two neighbours talking.
As the days grew into weeks, a steady stream of people trickled up the mountain to see the old man, tired human debris grown weary of the ways of others, and the old man dutifully strung them around the mountain like a cheap necklace. Space inevitably became limited, and sporadic squabbles broke out as the colonists vied for the best spots in which to sit and meditate. Eventually it became so crowded that the people had to organise a rota system on the smoothest of the rocky outcrops and those riverbanks where the burbling of the stream was the most melodic, and limit people to no more than ten minutes of inner reflection per day so that everyone could have the opportunity to achieve harmony. Different schools of thought emerged as to the best way of sweeping the clutter from one's mind, and they developed a fierce rivalry. Over time they became vociferous in their condemnation of the others, and the different groups were forced to move, with their adherents, to separate parts of the mountain, meeting only when they gathered water from the stream or found themselves at the same meditation spot. Eventually the resentment between the groups spilled into threats, and finally manifested itself as violent scuffles over ownership of the flattest rocks and the smoothest riverbanks.
Many years ago, when the earth was younger and the sky still owned her secrets, an old man grew tired of the endless petty squabbles of his neighbours and decided to climb down to the bottom of a valley to start a new life.
Have fun with etymology at World Wide Words
"I'm tired of the selfish ways they have down there," he said, "Teach me to live in harmony as you do."
And so the old man led the visitor to a quiet spot on the other side of the mountain, to a place where he could live as himself. Now and then the visitor would come to speak with him, and they would greet each other if they found themselves gathering water from the stream at the same time, but the old man was still fairly solitary, and so he remained happy.
Then one day another visitor came, his clothes frayed and the soles of his feet bleeding from the journey.
"I need to get away from those fools down in the valley, and I heard that you own the secret to tranquility" he said, "Will you help me?"
And so the old man found him a peaceful spot where he could be himself, which was admittedly a little closer to his own than he would have liked, before returning to his own hermitic life. Inevitably, the other two visitors and he encountered each other from time to time, and more than once the old man saw from a distance his two neighbours talking.
As the days grew into weeks, a steady stream of people trickled up the mountain to see the old man, tired human debris grown weary of the ways of others, and the old man dutifully strung them around the mountain like a cheap necklace. Space inevitably became limited, and sporadic squabbles broke out as the colonists vied for the best spots in which to sit and meditate. Eventually it became so crowded that the people had to organise a rota system on the smoothest of the rocky outcrops and those riverbanks where the burbling of the stream was the most melodic, and limit people to no more than ten minutes of inner reflection per day so that everyone could have the opportunity to achieve harmony. Different schools of thought emerged as to the best way of sweeping the clutter from one's mind, and they developed a fierce rivalry. Over time they became vociferous in their condemnation of the others, and the different groups were forced to move, with their adherents, to separate parts of the mountain, meeting only when they gathered water from the stream or found themselves at the same meditation spot. Eventually the resentment between the groups spilled into threats, and finally manifested itself as violent scuffles over ownership of the flattest rocks and the smoothest riverbanks.
Many years ago, when the earth was younger and the sky still owned her secrets, an old man grew tired of the endless petty squabbles of his neighbours and decided to climb down to the bottom of a valley to start a new life.
Have fun with etymology at World Wide Words
posted by Ecks Ridgehead at
1/12/2005 03:09:00 pm
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