I found a sweet little meditation the other day where you imagine a mountain. Any mountain. Pick whichever you like.
I chose this one.
It’s in Austria, in case you are wondering; or at least it was in 1976 when I saw it and took this photo. It may have moved since then, who knows.
Anyway, I held a memory in my mind and then learned, momentarily alarmed, that I was supposed to internalise the mountain. That was quite a lot to swallow, let me tell you! But I did as I was asked and felt the solidity of the rock within me.
“Don’t think of trolls,” I told myself. “Great big trolls, with slabby teeth and granite fingers and scraggy trees on their slopes. Not those, not at all.”
“Nor those trolls, in Tolkien, turning back to stone at sunrise.”
Moments drifted past as the mountain sat serene amid clouds and sunsets.
“Nor Terry Prachett. Especially don’t think of Detritus.”
Seconds became aeons.
“I said ‘Don’t think of Detritus’!”
A small avalanche cascaded down my spine. Oh Detritus, how I love you.
Someone told me there were going to be classes in Laughing Yoga locally, Perhaps this was what they meant.
In any case, I finished sitting quietly and was happy. I will continue to be the lofty mountain with perhaps an occasional troll.