Welcome to this Taoist-inspired reflection on writing kindness on the mountain.
So just take a moment to settle into your comfy space.
Warm and cozy.
Allow your shoulders to soften.
Your hands are resting easily.
And gently close your eyes.
Take a slow breath in.
And a gentle breath out.
There is nowhere you need to be right now.
And for these next few moments.
Simply allow yourself to listen.
And maybe along the way you will discover something worth carrying with you.
There is an old story about a young student who wished to understand what was truly important in life.
He had spent years learning,
Read many books and listened to wise teachers.
And yet the more he learned,
The more he wondered.
What should we hold on to?
What should we let go?
And one morning,
He brought these questions to an old monk who lived near a river.
And the monk,
He listened quietly.
Then he smiled and said,
Come along with me.
And together they began to walk.
The morning air was cool and fresh.
Birdsong drifted through the trees.
And the river flowed steadily beside them,
Sparkling in the sunlight.
Neither spoke for a while.
The monk,
He seemed in no hurry.
And eventually,
The student noticed that the silence itself felt peaceful.
So let's just take a moment here and feel into that peace.
And when they reached a bend in the river,
The monk stopped.
Picked up a small stick and knelt beside the sandy bank.
And carefully,
He wrote several words in the sand.
So,
The student leaned closer,
Curious to see.
And these words were clear,
They were neat,
And easy to read.
The monk stood and stepped back,
And the student,
He waited for an explanation.
But none came.
Instead,
The monk simply watched the river.
Minutes passed by and the water continued its journey.
And then slowly,
Gently,
It reached the words.
Now the edges of the words began to blur.
Then little by little all the letters disappeared until there was nothing left.
The student he asked,
Master,
Why did you write those words if the river was only going to wash them away?
And the monk's eyes,
They twinkled brightly.
And he said,
Because some things are meant to be washed away.
The student thought about this,
But he did not yet understand.
So they continued walking.
The path that followed the river through fields and trees.
And as the sun climbed higher,
They reached a wide valley.
And there,
Rising in the distance,
Stood a mountain.
It was magnificent.
Study.
Silent.
Ancient.
And now the monk stopped and pointed towards it.
If there are words worth keeping,
He said,
Write them on the mountain.
The student looked at him and then at the mountain.
And back again.
But which words belong here?
And the monk he smiled.
It's the ones that help your heart grow lighter.
The student remained quiet now.
And the monk he continued.
Right kindness on the mountain,
" he said.
The kindness that others have shown you and the kindness that you have shown others.
Right gratitude on the mountain.
Those moments that reminded you that life is beautiful.
Right courage on the mountain.
Even those times when you kept going,
Even when things felt difficult.
And write love on the mountains.
The love that found you.
The love you offered.
A student,
He listened carefully.
The river it continued to flow below.
But the mountain it stood above.
And for the first time he began to understand.
And then the monk,
He knelt and picked up a handful of sand.
It slipped easily through his fingers.
Most people,
He said softly.
Do the opposite.
They write their hurts on the mountain or their disappointments.
Their mistakes and they carve them deeply into stone.
A student nodded.
He knew that this was true.
And so the monk continued.
And then they write kindness in the sand.
A compliment.
A helping hand.
A beautiful moment.
A small act of love.
But before long those memories have drifted away.
The student now stood very still.
He could see those places in his own life where he had done that too.
Maybe you can too.
There have been moments that lingered long after they were useful.
A misunderstanding.
Or a disappointment.
Or even something that happened years ago.
But still visits from time to time.
And now there have also been those moments of goodness.
Moments that deserved more attention than they received.
Maybe a smile from a stranger.
A friend's support.
A moment of unexpected beauty.
A kind word at exactly the right time.
Maybe a beautiful sunrise.
A laugh.
A gesture of pure love.
Now the monk looked toward the river.
Life gives us both,
He said.
The question is not whether difficult things will happen.
But the question is what we choose to remember.
Now the student watched a leaf floating downstream.
He noticed how it carried it effortlessly.
There was no resistance here.
No struggle.
It was just movement,
Flow,
Release.
And the student wondered how many things he had been carrying that belonged to the river.
Those old stories,
Those worries.
The regrets.
And there the mountains stood quietly in the distance.
So patient waiting.
It was as though it had all the time in the world.
The monk he placed a hand upon the student's shoulder.
And he said you don't have to forget every painful experience because many of them contain lessons.
But you do not have to build your home there.
Just learn what experiences have come to teach you and then let the river carry the rest.
So the student he closed his eyes and he placed an old disappointment upon the water.
He watched it drift away.
And first,
It felt strange.
But then he noticed something unexpected.
Spaciousness.
Because now there is more room inside him,
More room for gratitude.
More room for peace.
And more room for joy.
And this is one of life's quiet invitations.
To become more intentional about what we carve into the stone.
And to become more mindful about what we allow the river to carry away.
So as you sit here now,
Maybe you could bring to mind something that belongs in the river.
Of frustration.
An old burden.
Or a disappointment.
Now just simply imagine placing it gently upon the flowing water.
And just watch it move downstream.
Further and further away.
Take a slow breath in here.
And a soft breath out,
Letting go.
Wonderful.
Now you can bring to something that belongs on the mountain.
A kindness.
A moment of love.
A blessing.
Maybe something small or something profound.
Now to see yourself placing it upon the mountain.
It's resting there.
It's safe.
It's remembered.
It's on it.
Take another gentle breath in.
And a slow breath out.
And just notice how it feels.
The river and the mountain.
Release and remembrance.
Letting go and holding close.
Because both have their place.
And both are part of a wise and balanced life.
The river will always flow.
And the mountain will always stand.
And each day,
Through your attention,
Your thoughts and your choices,
You can decide what is written upon both.
So may you allow the river to carry away what no longer serves.
May you write kindness upon the mountain.
And may you remember the goodness that has touched your beautiful life.
And may your heart grow lighter with every passing day.
Take a slow breath in.
The gentle,
Longer breath out.
And when you're ready,
Slowly and gently bring your awareness back to the room.
Roll your shoulders if that feels good and give yourself a gentle stretch.
Slowly open your eyes.
And now carry with you the wisdom of the river.
The strength of the mountains.
And the simple practice of remembering wisely.
So thank you so much for sharing this time with me.
And until next time,
Be gentle with yourself.
Namaste,
My friend.
