A Mountain Tale
Once upon a time, a traveller lay down
to rest beside a mountain.
The traveller came from a town where
people lived in houses, bought their food in shops, and wore clever shoes on
their feet, and so he did not know about the ways of the wild. He did not know
about the fairies and trolls, and the listening, watching trees. He did not
know that mountains had stories to tell and toes to tickle.
Ignorant indeed, the traveller lay down
to rest on the mountain’s big toe. After travelling all day long, he was very
tired, and fell quickly asleep.
The mountain began to laugh, and his
deep, rolling laughter shook the earth for many miles on end. Oh, it felt so good to laugh! The mountain could not
remember the last time he felt his toes – why, had almost forgotten he had
toes!
The sleepy traveller woke up. The earth
was moving! He jumped to his feet and quickly took hold of a tree to keep
himself from falling.
Seeing the frightened traveller down
below, holding desperately onto a tree, the mountain stopped laughing and took
pity on the little fellow.
“Hello there!” boomed the mountain.
“Sorry to frighten you like that! It’s just that you tickled my big toe.”
Instead of soothing the traveller’s
fears, the mountain’s booming voice only managed to spook the traveller more
than ever. The earth was moving, trees were crashing down and a strange voice
called down from the heavens. The traveller did not know that mountains could
speak, laugh, or do anything at all, and so he was convinced that the world was
coming to an end – or maybe it was all a bad dream?
“Help!” he called. “Help!”
The mountain laughed. Poor little
fellow! Look at him down there, all worked up for nothing! He tried again to
get the traveller’s attention.
“Hey there! Calm down! There’s no need
to panic, I’m not going to hurt you.”
“What?” said the traveller. “Who’s
speaking?”
“The mountain is speaking, and you are
standing on my big toe!”
“But mountains can’t speak!”
The mountain let out a deep sigh, and
the sigh swept through the woods down below like a tidal wave. The traveller
hugged his tree with all his might and which bent over so far it looked like it
might topple over completely.
“Now, you listen here,” said the
mountain, losing his patience. “I am Stargazer the Mountain, Storyteller,
Astrologer, and Mountain Elder of the Ancient Grandfather Council. The place
where you now stand has been my home for thousands and thousands of years. We
mountainfolk are an ancient people who have watched and guarded the earth
throughout all of history. We stand and we watch. We see far out over the lands
and high up into the skies. We have all the time in the world to watch and
learn. We are the Wisdom Keepers and Storytellers of Old!”
“Please, forgive me, Mountain Elder
Sir!” stammered the traveller. “I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just – I never
knew that mountains were alive…”
“Well, you know now,” said Stargazer
the Mountain. “And please make sure to spread the word! It disturbs me greatly
to hear of your people’s ignorance.”
“Oh, of course, I will!” said the
traveller, privately thinking that everyone would think him mad. “I had better
be going now, and I’ll make sure to tell everyone about your Grandfather
Council and all of that…”
“Did
you know that many mountains were once men like yourself?” said the mountain,
warming up to a story. “I was a man once, a long time ago…”
“Wait – what? You were a man?”
“Yes indeed! Would you like to hear
about it? This is a good story, you know, and it is all about the history of
man and woman…”
The traveller changed his mind,
realising that he might never get the chance again to hear a mountain tell a
story, and so, finding a nice soft patch of green moss, he sat himself down and
began to listen to Stargazer the Mountain’s story.
There
was a time, long ago, a time so lost, so forgotten, only the stars and mountains
still remember. It was a time when man and woman saw themselves not as separate
from nature, but as a part of it.
Man
and woman lived together with the trees, the mountains, the stars, the earth
and all her creatures big and small. The creepy crawlies, the birds in the sky,
the great trees, the tiny green buds, the flowing river, the smooth grey stones
and the brown bear – all were family.
When
Sister Rainfall fed the earth with her tears, she gave life not only to man and
woman, but also to the frogs, the starflowers and the fairy folk in the woods.
All of Mother Earth’s creatures drank the same water and breathed the same air.
Man
and woman saw all things as blessed, and they gave thanks for the gifts given.
They need not always thank the Creator by word or ceremony. Their gratitude was
present in the way they lived and appreciated all things. Thanks was given in
the way they drank the water, felt the wind, and kissed the earth with their
feet.
Together
they lived close to the earth and they gathered in circles. Man, woman, young
and old – everyone had a place in the circle. The people believed in the
healing power of the circle. The circle had a way of easing all conflicts and
bad feelings. Everyone was welcome into the circle and no one was left out – no
one, that is, but for one woman who lived alone in the woods.
Ama
was her name, and she had fled from her people with a broken heart. It was her
first love, and he had chosen another woman.
Ashamed,
she had fled deep, deep into the woods where it was very cold and dark. There
she lived alone for many years. There she buried herself in pain and suffering.
There was nothing but darkness and solitude. Instead of soothing her wounds
with the love and warmth of her people, she only had herself to talk to and
depend upon.
Born
in love, and raised in love – Ama was like all her people. Without love, she
was like a flower torn from its roots and thrown into the darkness. Without
love, she grew bitter and hateful. She grew to hate the very things she most
longed for. She hated the light. She hated her people – and mostly, she hated
herself.
Alone
in the darkest part of the woods, nothing could satisfy her hungry heart. She
had all the time in the world to think, and her thoughts drove her mad. She
thought about the people she came from. She thought about the man she once
loved and now hated. She thought about her life and her own unfortunate destiny.
Why was she destined to such suffering?
In
secret, she watched the people as they went about their daily lives. They were
happy and did not know anything about her miserable life in the woods. Ama
hated them, and she wished that all of them could know her suffering.
One
night, overflowing with hate and fury, Ama cried and howled at the moon.
“Pain
and suffering I send down on them! May all my people know the sorrow of a
broken heart and a life spent in solitude! May all lovers be split apart and
all babes torn from their mother’s breasts! Let them cry! Let all circles be
torn apart and let all days of peace become a memory so lost and forgotten only
the stars and mountains will still remember.”
The
cries of one woman echoed throughout all the heavens, oceans and lands.
In
truth, all she really wanted was love. All she really longed for was her
family, her tribe. If you looked deep into her heart, buried under all her pain
and all her fear, you would find a little girl full of love. A little girl who
had lived too long in the dark, all on her own.
The
curse of Ama tore all circles and families apart with a power the people could
not control or understand. What was happening? The women and children looked on
in fear as their men left without any word or explanation. A strange spell had
hypnotised the men, turning them cold and unfeeling. They left their homes,
their women and children. They left without looking back and nothing could stop
them. The women tried to stop them, they cried and they screamed, but it was no
use. It was like talking to the dead.
The
men left their homes and set off in different directions. Some went high up
into the mountains, and others went deep into the woods. Some travelled for
weeks and some travelled for many years. Finally, they buried their feet in the
earth and watched on in wonder, and fear, as their feet grew roots deep, deep,
down under, into the very heart of Mother Earth.
They
could not move. Their roots chained them to the earth. With time, weather and
wind, the men grew old and hard, finally turning into mountains. Some wasted
away into rocks and dust, while others grew higher and higher into great
grandfather mountains.
The
women never knew what happened to the men. They never returned. In time, the
peace they once knew became a memory so lost and forgotten only the stars and
mountains still remember.
Stargazer the Mountain finished his
story and all was still.
It was as if every bug, on every leaf,
on every tree was listening. The very earth herself was listening. The
traveller looked up and thought the mountain looked sad. Was it even possible?
Or was he only imagining it? In any case, the traveller thought it was a good
thing that a few mountains still remembered that time of peace so long ago. On
his way back to town, the traveller thought about the story and told it to
himself over and over so that it might plant a lasting seed in his heart.
They might think him mad, but the traveller decided to tell
them anyway.
Story by Stina Gray
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