Great Mountain

A Story For My Father

He was of small stature, with skinny legs and a mess of freckles, which made him look younger than he really was.  His mousy brown hair often covered his face and he had to push it out of his eyes when he walked in the mountains so that he could see the stars around him. Most of the other children in the village stopped believing in stories of magical creatures on Great Mountain long before he did.  At first this did not affect him, everyone assuming he was years behind his actual age.  Eventually though, as he grew awkwardly into his body and his mousy brown hair became curly, the other boys and girls began making fun of him for talking about dragons and unicorns and the other magical beings their parents had told them as small children, lived up there. 

The village was nestled in the valley made by three mountains and bordered on its North side by a large lake.  Two of the mountains rose up, their pointed tops scraping the passing clouds.  The third mountain was higher than the other two combined.  It went up up up and pierced through the sky, so that its peak was never seen.  There were many stories about Great Mountain.  A few people had tried to get there, but nobody had ever returned.

The boy continued to grow.  He was the youngest of seven.  His three older brothers, skilled with tools and savvy when it came to business affairs, became ship builders, crafting great boats to transport people across the massive lake.  His sisters, equally clever with money, grew and sold sweet potatoes, a great delicacy among the villagers.  The boy learned how to build ships with his brothers, he learned how to grow sweet potatoes from his sisters, but he would not spend the time necessary to make a business of either.  While his brothers and sisters gained wealth and success in the village, he spent the majority of his time alone. 

What he loved most was exploring the mountains.  He knew all the plants that grew high in the hills, he knew the different animals that lived in the forest.  Often, he sat on a rocky outcropping overlooking the village, facing Great Mountain.  "Has anyone ever made it to the top?" he asked the forest, gazing up at the invisible peak.  "Can you imagine what greatness would wait for the man that went up and returned?  What stories he could tell!  Everyone in the village would want to listen and people would remember him forever!"

On a sunny afternoon, a voice answered him.  "Why don't you go and find out?"

"Who's there?" he asked.

A young woman came from behind a tree.  He had known her as a child.  She too liked to walk alone in the forest.  She too wondered about the top of the third mountain.

"Why don't you climb it?  You dream of it always, don't you?  You held on to the stories when we were young.  Go find out what is there.  If you return, greatness will surely follow."

The next week, with a few sweet potatoes, a warm sweater, and a walking stick, the boy prepared to go to the top.  His sisters did not understand why he was going, though deep in their hearts they were happy for him.  His brothers could not fathom doing something without a foreseeable profit, but somewhere inside, they were envious of his adventurous spirit.  The townspeople all gathered to see him off, for it was not often that a person tried to climb Great Mountain and never had anyone returned. 

The boy felt the beginnings of greatness already.  It was not as he had imagined.  It weighed more than his pack and it tightened around his throat.  He brought a flower to the young woman he had met in the forest and began up the mountain. 

At first it was like any walk, except that it was harder to breath with the greatness hanging around his neck.  The plants were the same.  The animals were playful and unmagical.  He walked for two days when he noticed a darkness had formed around him.  He looked out behind at the village below, but there was no village.  He had passed through the skin of sky and was beyond what he had ever seen.

The sun above still beat down on his head and the wind, stronger now, whipped at his back.  There was not much to see, but curiosity prevailed and the promise of greatness held him like a spell. 

As he neared the top the wind bit at his ears and he had to close his eyes because the dust and rocks were being blown around in powerful gusts.  But he knew his body well, and could feel his way along the steep incline.  A thought entered his mind.  What am I doing here?  How stupid of me to think there could be anything spectacular about this mountain.  There is nothing here for me. 

At that moment a great gust came and blew him off balance.  He fell hard, knocking his head against the rocky slope.  He lie there for a while, letting the pain wash over him.  Time passed.  He realized the wind had stopped and dust was no longer streaking across his face.  He opened his eyes.

He was not on the side of the mountain.  He could not see the sky.  He looked instead at a spectacular ceiling, smooth and curved, like the inside of an egg shell.  Gold columns rose up around him.  When he brought himself to seating, he realized the entire edifice shone gold and white.  Although it was bright in the new space, he could not identify a source of light.   It seemed the building itself was luminescent, the walls glowing inward, as if they were made of starlight.  He stood and turned around.  Is this the magic of the mountain?  He wondered.

"Yes."  The voice was feminine.  It rang strong and clear.  "This is the top of Great Mountain.  You have made it, as have others before you.  This is the entry point to a world where suffering does not exist and people do not need anything.  Come, walk toward any wall and you will pass into it."

The boy was sure he could see the silhouette of a unicorn and the forked tail of a dragon dancing beyond the gold columns.

"But I want to return to the village.  I want to tell everyone about this magic.  I want to finally be great like my brothers and sisters.  The people are waiting for me.  When I return they will truly know I am great and I will never be forgotten."

"You may return young man, but it comes with a price." 

With that, he felt another cold gust carry him from the temple and back to the mountain's peak.  When he opened his eyes, the dust once again stung his vision.  He looked around briefly and grabbed a rock, then began down the mountain. 

It was several days before he reached the edge of the sky.  As the village came into view his heart leapt with a joy he could not remember ever having felt.  There, his greatness waited for him, there he would finally be celebrated.  He was so happy he spread his arms and shouted down to the friendly view.  But no sound passed his lips.  He tried again, tried to speak, to yell, to scream, but the effort was for nothing.  His voice was gone.

Upon returning to the village, the young man was met with a grand celebration.  The villagers made a feast.  His brothers and sisters hugged him warmly, everyone begged him to tell the story...but he could not speak.  The children, tugging at his pants, asked again and again.  "Did you reach the top?  Are there real dragons and unicorns at the top of Great Mountain?  Tell us about it!  What did you see?"

The young man could not answer and without his voice, nobody believed he had been there.  They shrugged their shoulders and went home.  Once again, he was alone.  The heaviness returned and he put a hand to his throat where, since he first left, the burdensome promise of greatness had hung.

A whisper in his left ear woke him from despair.  "I'm glad you're back," said the young woman he had met in the forest.  She held out a flower for him then kissed him on the cheek. 

***

A long time passed and the people forgot the man had ever tried to go up Great Mountain.  He lived happily with the woman from the forest and they often walked together, smelling flowers and watching animals.  He liked to listen to her sing. 

He liked to listen to everyone sing.  Although the people of the village had made fun of him as a child and did not believe he ascended Great Mountain, he liked being around them anyway.  He grew to enjoy all of their stories.  And the people liked talking to him.  They came to him, asking him to guide them on walks through the smaller mountains.  The animals followed him.  It was known in the village that they would come out if a person was walking with the man who did not speak.

He listened to his brothers and sisters when they were frustrated with their businesses.  He helped repair the ships after long journeys across the lake.  He made small boats for the children and showed them how to sail.  He taught the people how to make the most beautiful gardens, passing on secrets for growing sweet potatoes.  He listened to everyone and helped wherever he could.  He loved the village.

***

After many years the old man became sick.  He knew he was dying.  The woman he had met in the forest so many years before, sat beside him.  She kissed his forehead with tears rolling down her cheeks.  He raised a gentle fist, then turned his hand over and opened it.  There, resting in his palm, was the rock he had brought back from the top of Great Mountain.  It had changed.  The stone was now as gold and glowing as the temple he had found there.  It lit the tear-streaked face of the old woman.  She leaned over and whispered in his ear, "I always knew you had been there.  I never forgot.  But it didn't matter because I loved you no matter what."

The next day the whole village came to his home to say goodbye.  He was very close to death.  One by one they knelt by his side to cry with him and tell him how much they cared for him.  Afterward, they gathered around his bed.  "You have done so much for our village," they said, "You are a great man.  May we all find greatness as you have." 

The man, cleared his throat for the first time in many, many years and spoke,
"Greatness, my friends, cannot be found.  Like love, greatness is not for getting, it is for giving."