The Wind and The Mountain

“No matter how the wind howls, the mountain does not move” ~Chinese proverb

If one can imagine a mountain during a storm, it is easy to visualize trees being swept from side to side, little animals scurrying around looking for shelter, and even an occasional bolt of lighting as it mercilessly hits an unfortunate tree; the wind howls fiercely, quickly impregnating the forest with the echo of its inconsolable cry.

For a few terrifying moments, which seem to have no apparent end on sight, the air itself is swollen with fear and apprehension, and every creature’s heart beats faster at the rhythm of a primal song, haunting and unknown.

When the storm lets down, and the wind dies out, damage is widespread - Some trees are down; leaves are everywhere; the valley is flooded by rainwater. Yet, aside from superficial damage, the mountain hasn’t moved.

When we are surprised by a life storm, we are hardly ever prepared. As the winds of change blow through our relationships, or through any of the sanctuaries of our self-security, fear washes over us, and we hope for the best while expecting the worst.

Regardless of how strong the storm is – and how severe the superficial damage to our lives may appear – our inner core remains untainted. As long as we choose to identify our solidity with the damage we observe in our superficial surroundings, we are under the false illusion that our world is falling apart, when all that is coming undone is only the part of our lives which needs to be cleansed and renewed. Under the surface, where the true foundation of our being resides, we remain untouched. Our inner ground is cleansed and enriched by the storm, and will support future growth sprouted by seeds blown in our direction, fed by the decomposing debris.

The mountain does not move; it never did and never will, no matter how hard the wind can ever dream to blow.

One More Step - Challenging Our Limitations

"Few men during their lifetime come anywhere near exhausting the resources dwelling within them. There are deep wells of strength that are never used." Richard E. Byrd


When we were kids and complained about being exhausted, my father always told my sister and I the story of a friend of his; this lady – Marina was her name – was a small lady, maybe about 5’2” and weighing only around 100 pounds. Marina had a little boy, Francesco, who was curious just like little boys should be but whose nickname really should have been Menace – Francesco could not function if he didn’t get himself in danger at least once a day.

One day, Francesco got into more danger than it was daily allowed, and after sneaking out into a shop in his backyard his grandfather used to repair antique furniture, he pulled a very heavy dresser over himself. Francesco screamed as he fell back, and thankfully his mother heard him. When Marina saw what had happened, she had no time to lose; she knew her husband and father were not around, and it would have taken too long to summon help – it was time to take matters into her own hands.

Without even thinking, she pulled the dresser up and away from her son, who was soon after taken to the hospital and diagnosed with three broken ribs and a fractured pelvis. When Marina told her family and the emergency personnel what happened, and how she had moved the dresser with her bare hands, everyone was skeptical; the dresser – her father confirmed – weighed approximately two and a half times her body weight.

It is not uncommon to hear of people performing incredible feats while in the grips of fear or anger. Indeed, the two are powerful forces, and it is understandable that they would drive someone to reach beyond their point of tolerance. What is quite interesting, though, is the fact that many of the things we think we cannot do are in fact manageable if we can shift our focus from our set limitations to the untapped well of our potential.

The past few years, I have set a small challenge with myself – whenever I feel I have reached capacity, I stop and truly analyze how I feel in that moment. Most of the time, we convince ourselves that we have reached the maximum of what we can do way before we are really spent. As a car’s gas gauge lights up several miles before a tank is truly empty, so do our tolerance triggers. No matter how exhausted we are – or how hopeless we feel – there is always a small reservoir we can tap into to temporarily regenerate and make it a few more steps. While I was in labor with my children, I almost gave up on refusing pain medication during the deliveries. I tried to focus on the fact that nobody had ever died of pain, and if I held off, my babies would be healthy and alert; that thought alone was a shot of resolve and I made it through the last few excruciating hours.

In many cases, wanting to give up is only normal; following through with it is no different than abandoning the car in the middle of the highway, and walking off while we still had enough fuel to make it to the next gas station.

Teachers in Disguise

Last night I lay in bed for a while thinking about the people who have been the greatest teachers in my life. What came to mind was quite amazing. I realized that those who have taught me most were not wise men or even educated people, but mostly common folks I met on ordinary occasions. All of them entered my life unexpectedly, and certainly left a mark upon their departure.

You see, sometimes the teachers are not the ones who are in our lives to remain, but those who only come in for a short while and upset the natural order of things during their brief stay. As they walk in, they quickly take on a center role, and become very important to us; we respect them, like them, even reflect ourselves into them. They may open our eyes to certain realities we had not considered before, or even force us to readjust our list of priorities, but their presence rarely goes unnoticed. When they leave – usually just as abruptly as when they arrived - they leave us with a mindful of questions and a feeling of void upon their departure.

Some of the most important teachers – those who have the potential of being catalysts for real change in our lives – are the people who have provoked or created some sort of strife. Their role is rarely a long one, and they accomplish their task in a breath of time; they may come into our lives disguised as a spouse, a lover, a spouse’s mistress, a belligerent co-worker, or even an overly dramatic friend. Their role is to jolt us out of the stagnant, repetitive pattern we have cozily allowed ourselves to find comfort in, and they can only complete their mission through high-charge actions that trigger powerful emotions within us.

By creating an emotional charge with their arrival, stay or departure, our teachers give us the necessary fuel, or the awareness we need, to make important decisions which will affect the way we approach life.

If we can look past the superficial negative connotation of the events that unfolded, we will see that we wouldn’t be who we are today had it not been for some of their input. We may be a better or worse person after meeting them, but that’s only because of the choices WE made in response to their actions. Their presence in our lives only had the purpose of triggering a choice or a different perception; which path we picked at the crossroads of our decisions was strictly up to us; even if one has horrible role models around as a child, they have the choice of following in their caregivers’ footsteps or going the opposite direction, using the example provided to them as a map of the unwanted zone they do not wish to walk into.

In my own life, I’ve met many teachers, young and old, kind and grouchy, rich or very poor; some have beautified my existence, while some have showed me a blueprint of hell; nevertheless, they have all taught me something, and I can only be grateful for the opportunity to have them in my life, even if only for a short while.