This is the story of the Mountain and the Wind.
At the edge of the world,
Where the clouds wore silver veils and the rivers hummed lullabies to the stones,
There lived a mountain named Tien.
Tien was very old,
So old that he had forgotten his own beginning.
And perhaps that was the point.
He had watched empires rise like summer storms and fall like autumn leaves.
He had held glaciers,
Forests,
Avalanches,
And dreams.
His body bore the grooves of time,
Each one carved not by struggle but by the quiet passing of seasons.
Tien did not speak often,
But when he did,
His voice sounded like wind moving through pines or thunder far away.
One bright morning,
As the mist cleared from his shoulders and birds stretched their wings in song,
A visitor arrived.
She came with a laugh,
Light as dandelion fluff.
She swirled around his crags and kissed the tips of his cliffs.
It was Mira,
The wind.
Mira was all motion,
Impatient,
Curious,
Vibrant.
She had just swept through lavender fields in the south and stolen stories from market stalls in the east.
She had picked up rumors,
Songs,
And secrets,
Most of which she would forget by tomorrow.
Tien,
She called,
Looping through a mountain pass.
You still haven't moved after all this time?
No need,
Came Tien's slow,
Deep reply.
Everything worth seeing finds its way here.
Mira laughed,
Wild and musical.
That's such a you thing to say,
But don't you ever want to leave,
To go and taste the world?
There's a waterfall in the north that glows under moonlight.
There's a city where they dance barefoot in the streets.
There's a mountain made of sand that sings when the wind passes over it.
Don't you crave that?
Tien breathed,
Not a sigh,
Something quieter,
Like a thought resting.
I do not crave,
He said.
Desire is a fire that never tires of wood.
I find joy in presence.
Stillness is not absence.
It is attention.
Mira fluttered restlessly,
Brushing against pine needles and scattering a few loose cones.
But there's so much to do,
So much to see.
How can you be content with so little?
Tien smiled,
Not on his face,
For he had none,
But through the warmth of his tone.
Little,
He said.
Every moment is vast.
I watched a pine cone fall this morning,
Spiral through sunlight and land beside a stone that has not moved in a thousand years.
In that moment was an entire story.
A child's giggle echoed from the valley below.
A fox passed so lightly it didn't disturb the snow.
If one truly sees,
Even the smallest moment becomes infinite.
But don't you feel like you're missing out?
Mira asked.
People write poems about sunsets on oceans.
Lovers dance on rooftops in the rain.
There are flavors and colors you'll never know.
I do not miss what I have not tasted,
Tien said.
Happiness is not in accumulation.
It is in alignment.
If you try to drink the whole river,
You drown.
But if you cup your hands and sip,
You are satisfied.
Mira paused mid-whirl,
Thoughtful now.
But I live in the new,
In the now.
What's the point of time if we don't use it to feel everything?
Tien was quiet for a long moment.
To feel everything is to feel nothing for long,
He said.
Like rain on stone,
It touches,
Yes.
But then it vanishes.
Depth is not in passing.
It is in staying.
Mira blew a frustrated gust.
You sound like a philosopher who's never been kissed.
Tien chuckled,
A soft rock slide in the distance.
Who's to say I haven't been?
A snowflake once melted on my peak in such a way that I still remember its warmth.
The wind stilled at that.
She drifted,
Slow and circling.
Like smoke above a calm fire.
Then,
More gently.
Sometimes I feel like I'm chasing something.
A perfect place.
A perfect moment.
But I never quite arrive.
Perhaps,
Said Tien,
It is not a place you seek,
But a permission to stop,
To be.
Mira sank lower,
Curling in a breeze among the treetops.
But if I stop,
Don't I disappear?
No,
Tien said.
You be calm.
She was quiet then,
Letting his words echo.
I met a man yesterday,
She said softly.
He stood at the edge of a cliff and shouted his joy into me.
I carried it across the plains.
I think I made him happy.
You did,
Tien said.
But will you remember him tomorrow?
I want to,
She whispered.
Then stay a moment longer,
Tien replied.
Sometimes,
Stillness is the only way to truly hold something.
The sun dipped low,
Casting golden light that made every pine needle shimmer.
A bear lumbered quietly beneath the trees.
Somewhere,
Far off,
A child's lullaby echoed.
Tien,
Mira asked,
Her voice now just a breeze.
Yes.
What if I never find what I'm looking for?
Tien's answer came as the stars began to appear.
Then you are not lost,
He said.
You are simply unfinished.
And with that,
Mira rose.
Soft,
Slower now,
And drifted across the twilight.
Not in a rush,
But in thought.
She didn't know where she was going.
And for the first time,
That felt okay.
And Tien,
The patient and unmoving,
Watched her go.
Not with sadness,
But with the calm of someone who knows all things return in time.
That's the end of our story.
Now breathe easy.
The world spins fast,
But you,
Tonight,
Are allowed to stay still.
Good night.
