The sun hadn’t risen yet when I started walking up that old dirt path. My name is Mei, and I live in a small village tucked between two great mountains. For as long as I could remember, those mountains stood like giants, blocking the morning sun and making our journey to the next village long and hard. People often said, “That’s just how it is. Mountains don’t move.”
But Old Man Yu didn’t agree.
Everyone called him a fool. He was thin, with a long white beard and hands rough like tree bark. But every morning, Old Man Yu walked out with his shovel, a basket, and his grandson, and they dug dirt from the mountain. He told everyone, “One day, we’ll move these mountains.”
People laughed. “You’ll be dead before even a hill is gone!”
But Yu just smiled, nodded, and kept digging.
As a child, I didn’t understand. I thought he was strange. Why dig when the mountain was so big? Why sweat and worry over something that would take a thousand lifetimes?
One morning, I followed him. “Why do you do this?” I asked.
He squinted at the sun and looked at me with warm eyes. “Not everything big needs to be finished by one person.”
“But the mountain is huge,” I said. “Even ten lifetimes are not enough.”
He chuckled. “Maybe it’s not about finishing. Maybe it’s about not giving up.”
I didn’t get it. I wanted simple answers, fast results. So I walked away.
Years went by. Some people moved to easier lands. Some stayed and grumbled. But every day, Old Man Yu kept working—quiet, steady, simple. And then something strange happened.
The younger children started helping him. More people joined, not because they believed the mountains would disappear in one day, but because his calm way inspired them. He worked without rushing and without stopping. Not forcing anything—just doing what he felt was right.
And still, people called him foolish.
One night, I had a dream. I dreamed I was a butterfly, fluttering through the valley, free and light. But when I woke, I felt unsure. Was I Mei who dreamed of being a butterfly, or a butterfly dreaming of being Mei?
That morning, something clicked.
Maybe things didn’t need to happen fast.
Maybe mountains didn’t need to move all at once.
Maybe the path to change... was not about pushing, but continuing, gently and naturally.
That day, I picked up a shovel and joined Yu.
He smiled at me and said nothing. We just dug, side by side. The mountain didn’t shrink that day. But something inside me did—a heavy weight I had carried for years. I felt light, like the butterfly in my dream.
Old Man Yu didn’t live to see the mountain move.
But maybe that was never the point.
Now, every morning, I dig. Not to defeat the mountains... but to walk the Way, with peace in my heart.
The mountain is still there. But so am I.
And that’s enough for today.
The sun hadn’t risen yet when I started walking up that old dirt path. My name is Mei, and I live in a small village tucked between two great mountains. For as long as I could remember, those mountains stood like giants, blocking the morning sun and making our journey to the next village long and hard. People often said, “That’s just how it is. Mountains don’t move.”
But Old Man Yu didn’t agree.
Everyone called him a fool. He was thin, with a long white beard and hands rough like tree bark. But every morning, Old Man Yu walked out with his shovel, a basket, and his grandson, and they dug dirt from the mountain. He told everyone, “One day, we’ll move these mountains.”
People laughed. “You’ll be dead before even a hill is gone!”
But Yu just smiled, nodded, and kept digging.
As a child, I didn’t understand. I thought he was strange. Why dig when the mountain was so big? Why sweat and worry over something that would take a thousand lifetimes?
One morning, I followed him. “Why do you do this?” I asked.
He squinted at the sun and looked at me with warm eyes. “Not everything big needs to be finished by one person.”
“But the mountain is huge,” I said. “Even ten lifetimes are not enough.”
He chuckled. “Maybe it’s not about finishing. Maybe it’s about not giving up.”
I didn’t get it. I wanted simple answers, fast results. So I walked away.
Years went by. Some people moved to easier lands. Some stayed and grumbled. But every day, Old Man Yu kept working—quiet, steady, simple. And then something strange happened.
The younger children started helping him. More people joined, not because they believed the mountains would disappear in one day, but because his calm way inspired them. He worked without rushing and without stopping. Not forcing anything—just doing what he felt was right.
And still, people called him foolish.
One night, I had a dream. I dreamed I was a butterfly, fluttering through the valley, free and light. But when I woke, I felt unsure. Was I Mei who dreamed of being a butterfly, or a butterfly dreaming of being Mei?
That morning, something clicked.
Maybe things didn’t need to happen fast.
Maybe mountains didn’t need to move all at once.
Maybe the path to change... was not about pushing, but continuing, gently and naturally.
That day, I picked up a shovel and joined Yu.
He smiled at me and said nothing. We just dug, side by side. The mountain didn’t shrink that day. But something inside me did—a heavy weight I had carried for years. I felt light, like the butterfly in my dream.
Old Man Yu didn’t live to see the mountain move.
But maybe that was never the point.
Now, every morning, I dig. Not to defeat the mountains... but to walk the Way, with peace in my heart.
The mountain is still there. But so am I.
And that’s enough for today.
