The Mountain. The River. #2

Rooted in Stillness and Yearning for Flow

The Mountain’s Yearning

The river took a small bend and narrowed – on this rather calm stretch, I looked up to the fascinating view of the steep hillsides. The coniferous trees defying odds and growing tall on these edges and seemingly reaching out to their partners on the other steep bank – like forbidden lovers reaching out to each other, yet, staying tantalisingly out of reach.

A painfully beautiful interplay of solidity and movement.

What must the mountain be thinking, I wonder?

I close my eyes and hear him, the mountain, rumble gently…

She flows, elusive and free, slipping through my valleys and dancing past my edges. I stand tall, watching her graceful movements, bound by my stillness, filled with longing. Every twist and turn seems like a lover’s teasing glance, beckoning me closer, yet I cannot follow.
The river is my muse—unattainable, ever-changing.
I try to hold on, to etch her story into my surface, but like a fleeting dream, she escapes me. My steadfastness makes me jealous of her freedom, her ability to explore and transform, while I remain—unchanged, unmoved. In my jealousy, I question: why can I not flow alongside her?

Like Narcissus, captivated by his reflection, I am trapped in my obsession, staring endlessly into the river’s shimmering depths. I try to make sense of her mystery, of her constant motion. But, the more I reach, the farther she drifts away. I watch the river seek new lands, while I stay rooted, my passion growing with every ebb and flow.

She shapes me, carves me with her touch, but never lingers.

There’s always somewhere else to be, another place to explore. I envy her ability to slip through, to be everything at once—sometimes calm and gentle, other times wild and untamed.

A Lover’s Chase

The Greek tale of Apollo and Daphne mirrors my plight. Apollo, the god of light, chases Daphne, a nymph who flees from his pursuit, choosing transformation over submission. As Apollo longs for her, so do I long for the river. I chase her through the ages, but she always escapes, slipping through my grasp like water through fingers.
My desire grows with each passing season, my love deepened by her distance. The river is elusive, like Daphne turning into a laurel tree, just beyond my reach. Yet, I cannot help but watch, yearn, and ache for her return. The river and I are bound by fate, always near yet impossibly distant.

She passes by me daily, leaving her mark but never staying long enough for me to know her fully. And I am left here, steadfast, waiting, wondering if she will ever return to me.

Do I Envy Her Freedom?

The river’s freedom, her constant flow toward new horizons, fills me with envy. I am jealous of her ability to reinvent herself at every turn, while I remain, rooted in place, bound by the weight of my own existence. The Roman god Janus, with his two faces, reminds me that the river can look to both the past and future, but I am confined to the present, watching her go. I am the anchor to her sail, the ground beneath her wings.
Heraclitus’s truth stings. I, the mountain, must face this reality—each time the river passes by, she is different. She is not mine to keep; her nature is to move on. But I am left with the fragments of her touch, the memory of her presence, forever etched into my surface. I wear my scars proudly, but they are bittersweet reminders of a lover who is always just out of reach.
The river’s flowing waters are a cruel muse, teasing me with her presence, yet never lingering long enough to be caught. She’s there, shaping me, pulling me into her story, but always with the knowledge that she belongs to no one—not even to me, her loyal mountain.

A Paradox of Love

I recognise a paradox. While I long to chase her, to flow beside her, I also know that my stillness is what she needs. I am the shore to her sea, the boundary that gives her journey shape. Would she be lost without me? Wander aimlessly? Without her, would I remain unchanged, untouched by time?

In this way, our love is both tragic and beautiful. We are bound to each other, yet forever apart—one grounded, the other free.

And so, I remain, watching her, yearning for the day she might return to me – knowing full well, that day will never come – yet, I hold onto the hope, because what else is there but to love what you cannot possess? In this endless chase, I find solace in my role. I am the mountain—the steadfast lover, always waiting, always watching, jealous of the river’s freedom, yet grateful for the moments when she brushes against my edges, leaving a part of her story with me before she moves on, to places I will never see.

The Mountain’s Wisdom

She flows tirelessly, a symbol of life’s changing, fluid nature. Yet, as the river moves, carving its path through time and terrain, I, the mountain, remain. Where she represents change and transformation, I embody endurance, patience, and stability. I am not unaffected by the river’s journey—my cliffs and valleys – the scars she leaves me with – show the evidence of its passage—but I do not yield. I stand as a testament to what endures through time, a quiet sentinel watching over the ever-changing world.

In Hindu mythology, I am considered sacred, often seen as the dwelling place of the divine. The great Mount Kailash, home to Lord Shiva, symbolizes the stillness within us, the state of being unmoved by the chaos around us.

Shiva, the destroyer and transformer, meditates atop Kailasa—his eyes closed, yet fully aware of the universe.

He reflects the nature of the mountain itself: still, vast, and unshakeable. While rivers flow, change course, and embrace the unpredictable, the mountain teaches that some things must endure, standing firm in the face of time’s endless march.

The river needs the mountain, just as the mountain benefits from the river. The mountain’s heights offer perspective, allowing the river to be seen for what it is—a force in constant motion, but one that exists within a larger, unchanging framework. From my vantage point, the river’s flow becomes part of a much grander picture, its journey tied to cycles that span eons. The river etches its story into my rocks, and together, we shape the land.

As I stand tall, I also see the futility in resisting change. Life is in a constant state of flux. But even Heraclitus acknowledged that some things, like the logos, remain constant amidst the changes. I am that logos for the river—a symbol of what remains as the world transforms.

The Dance Between Change and Stillness

The Greek myth of Sisyphus offers another lens through which to view my existence. Sisyphus, cursed to roll a boulder up a hill for eternity, mirrors the struggle between human effort and the mountain’s unyielding nature. Each day, Sisyphus pushes his burden, but the mountain does not change, just as life’s greatest challenges often seem insurmountable.
As the mountain, I have no need to struggle. I accept the river’s presence, the wind’s force, and the rain’s impact as part of life’s natural order, much like Sisyphus accepts his fate.

In many ways, I too, am Janus-like. From my summit, I see both where the river has been and where it is going. I witness the full arc of its journey, understanding that, while the river may see only the next bend, I see how the twists and turns form a larger pattern. My perspective is not bound by time; I have watched countless rivers rise and fall, civilizations grow and crumble, just as the mountains of Olympus stood witness to the drama of the gods and mortals alike.

The Interplay of Forces

The river’s nature is to push forward, to explore new paths and overcome obstacles. It is driven by curiosity, by an inherent restlessness that propels it towards the unknown. In contrast, my role as the mountain is to stand firm, to resist the temptation to move with the current. I provide not only the boundaries within which the river can flow, but also direct her towards her true destination. My cliffs, carved and shaped by the river’s persistence, bear witness to this enduring relationship between the two of us.

In Hindu mythology, Parvati ascended Mount Meru, seeking spiritual knowledge and unity with Shiva. The mountain was not just a physical structure to be climbed; it represented the arduous journey toward enlightenment. Like Parvati, those who seek the summit of any mountain must be willing to undergo transformation, but the mountain itself does not change. It offers a space for reflection, for understanding, for gaining perspective. While the river may flow through life, seeking new experiences, the mountain provides the wisdom of stillness.

True happiness is… to enjoy the present, without anxious dependence upon the future

As Seneca wrote above, in his writings on stoicism, he captured the essence of this stillness. He believed that happiness and freedom begin with a clear understanding of the world, rooted in the acceptance of things as they are.

I, the mountain, embody this idea. I do not concern myself with what comes next; I simply exist in the present, aware of the passing of time but unmoved by it.

Enduring Lessons

The river teaches through motion, while I, the mountain, teach through stillness. Together, we offer a complete understanding of life’s duality: the necessity of both change and permanence. Like the river, life often demands that we move, that we adapt and overcome. But there is wisdom in knowing when to stand firm, to root oneself deeply and observe rather than act. In this, the mountain and river are not opposites but complementary forces, each offering essential lessons to those who seek them.

“Omnia Mutantor, Nihil Interit”

As Roman poet Ovidius Naso, wrote in Metamorphoses of the power of transformation, “Everything changes, nothing perishes,” – he captured the essence of my existence. While the world around me shifts and flows, I remain, watching over the transformations below. I am a reminder that amidst the constant ebb and flow of life, some things are meant to endure.

And so, while the river may rush toward its destination, I stand patiently, offering a different kind of wisdom—one rooted in endurance, perspective, and the acceptance that change is not something to be resisted but embraced. From my heights, I see that the river’s journey is meaningful not because of its speed, but because of its connection to the land through which it flows, just as my existence is meaningful through my connection to the river and the world below.

She and I, are not two separate forces but one, intertwined in a dance that stretches across time, offering balance and harmony to all who take the time to look, to listen, and to understand.