Mountains are steadfast but the mountain streams
go by, go by,
and yesterdays are like the rushing streams,
they fly, they fly,
and the great heroes, famous for a day,
they die, they die.
Hwang Chin-i
Translated by Peter H. Lee
“There she is!” That was my common refrain the last few days. I had been on a short trip to a place where I had once lived in the western part of the state of Washington. On clear days, the area sparkles with the sunlight glistening off the multiple waterways and snowy mountain ranges. The cloudless sky invites a view of an enormous volcanic peak, which has long been honored by this volcano’s indigenous people with many names, such as ‘one who touches the sky.’ There is a sense of such timeless lovingness that I was moved again, and again, to exclaim a form of homage for this grandmother-like presence watching over and nourishing the surrounding region.
Perhaps not surprisingly, in visiting this magnificent being, I felt the lasting feeling of raw joyfulness from my childhood visits to my grandmothers. Even though I was biologically connected to only one of them, both were like mountains, seemingly unchanging. Everything about them and the experience of visiting them offered consistency. They seem unruffled by my visit, allowing me to choose to tag along, or not, as they went about their daily routines. In hindsight, I realize they were role-modeling mountainous qualities of calm steadiness and deep-rooted strength.
They also embodied the essential role of volcanic mountains. While volcanoes are most often regarded as fierce disruptors, their grander role is being the origins of new landforms and habits for earthly life. Similarly, grandmothers – known or unknown – are fundamental to the origin of every human being. Grandmothers of all the generations prior to mine had experienced numerous life-altering changes – e.g., miscarriage, early widowhood, extended drought interrupting sources of their and their family’s livelihood. They had been endowed by their grandmothers with reverence for every morsel of life being part of a sacred whole. This inner view seemed to give them the volcanic-like capacity to transform any inner embers into creative fuel for new beauty and growth out of seeming nothingness. They also inspired their grandchildren to ground themselves with the earth and simultaneously touch the vastness of the sky.
As I walked on the mid-slopes of this grand-mountain, I was surrounded by endless expressions of the power of grandmotherly regeneration. The mid-summer melting of snow and glaciers brought the vibrancy of new beginnings. Rivers, waterfalls and streams seems to appear everywhere, permeating the silence with different sounds of water rushing and moving and falling over stones. Wildflowers were emerging, offering new nourishment for the birds, deer, marmots, and other forms of life. The flowering trees were filled with bees, and every evergreen branch had fresh green tips. Higher up there was the hum of a helicopter rescuing an injured climber.
Being with a glacial peak, I could not help but feel the gift from my grandmothers and the long line of grandmothers before them – that true power arises in continual reverence for the delicate interconnectedness and sacred wholeness of life. That gift belongs to all life and has long been upheld in the human ancestral web by the world’s indigenous peoples. The volcano inspires me to continue to seek to live more fully that sensibility, so that eventually every footstep, decision, word, and gesture is infused with timeless lovingness of grandmothers and volcanoes. I hope you will join me.
Practice
This short practice can be done anywhere.
Prepare –
- Gently close your eyes. Imagine that you can release any tension in your lids and your eyeballs. Slowly move your eyes up to down, left to right, and on diagonals under your closed lids.
Practice –
- Open your eyes with a soft gaze.
- Slowly let your eyes scan around the space where you are.
- Allow your eyes to rest in one spot, e.g., the floor or ground beneath you. Then slowly shift to a few others.
- As your rest your eyes in a particular spot. Notice the textures, colors, etc. without judgment. Just notice.
- Return your gaze to the first spot.
- If you are indoors, let your mind take note of the source of the materials. For example, a natural wood floor would come from trees. A concrete floor would likely come from stones that have been ground and mixed with water. Imagine as though your true self resides here instead of in your thoughts.
- Wherever you are, silently acknowledge the gift of the presence of the space around you.
- Then, lightly close your eyes and sit quietly for a few moments with a feeling of great reverence for life. (Please feel free to keep your eyes open, if that is more comfortable for you).
Transition back into your day –
- Continue to sit quietly for a few moments. Notice the gentle rise and release of your breath. Acknowledge the gift of breath as an ever-present reminder of your constant link to all of life.
- As you are ready, return to your day.
This poem appears in Mala of the Heart: 108 Sacred Poems, page 60, edited by Ravi Nathwani and Kate Vogt and published by New World Library. The practice is from an earlier blog.
H E A R T H is posted each new and full moon. KateVogt©2025.
