The fickle mountain

When Master Chuang was young, he fluttered back and forth on every decision, exhausting himself. One day, after mounting frustration at his own fickleness, he sat pouting by the roadside as a portly old monk passed by.
— Why are you crying, child, asked the expansive holy man.
— I am a butterfly in the wind. The minute i want something, i begin to want something else, replied the sad, precocious child.
The monk plopped his massive frame on a nearby rock and thought in silence for a good long while.
— You must pray to the God of Stubbornness, he finally declared, and waddled away.
Young Master Chuang had never heard of such a silly god, but wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so on the spot he began pestering the makeshift deity for just a little more stubbornness. Lo and behold, the butterfly was soon pinned down! In time it completely petrified, then morphed into a stone, a hill, and finally became an infinitely large mountain. Even now old Master Chuang will say a little prayer on windy mornings, lest he forget to be stubborn that day.


3 Comments to “The fickle mountain”

  1. Fine. What if the child started to love this trait of his, without the slightest wish to transform it into anything? And what if this trait started to turn into a transformable material because of this love and transformed itself into something that neither the child nor the love could predict? Wonders of self-love. Better and safer one has good friends around. Warm greetings.

  2. Wasn’t the old monk a friend to the child? I’m just trying to find the lad a way out. Not everyone has reliable friends, especially not the fickle, i should think? Cheers.

    • you are right. he was a friend. you helped him, I think. but the kid also needs stability and familiarity in friendships. to chat his fears with peers and see how common and all too human they are. to chat about butterflies, chat and chat and chat… i think he also needs the warmth of the soup, shared on a common table with his friend and friends. this is another story and another lad, I fear. of a kid who attempted to flee from being pinned down…who knows why and what would we learn by discovering or inventing the origin of his greatest fear? till he met humans and friends.

Say something interesting

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: