Reuniting with Yourself in the Clouds

Standing atop Niubei Mountain, the sea of clouds surges beneath your feet. This is not just clouds; it is a dream of the earth, kept by the sky. At an altitude of 3,666 meters, every breath becomes solemn—each one a gift from heaven and earth. At 4 a.m., the cold is piercing. Until the east brightens, the morning sun suddenly leaps out of the sea of clouds. At that moment, it’s not me watching the sunrise; it’s the sunrise seeing every corner of my heart sealed by daily life. Golden light falls on my face, and I suddenly understand: we climb mountains and cross ridges only to let our bodies catch up with the souls that have long been on their way. Do mountains grow old? The Gongga Snow Mountain here has stood for billions of years and remains young. The only thing aging is our eyes that see the mountain. On Niubei Mountain, time is measured in geological eras, and personal troubles become light before the mountains. What we can’t let go of can actually be entrusted to the wind. A fellow backpacker said this was his third time at Niubei Mountain. “Every time, it looks different.” Indeed, the mountain doesn’t change; what changes are the people who see it and the hearts that need healing from the mountain. On the way down, the sea of clouds gradually fades. What do you bring back? Not photos, but a certainty—a certainty that at 3,666 meters high, there is a truer self stored away. When you return to the trivial daily life, you know there is a mountain always there, with clouds rising and rosy clouds glowing, waiting for the next reunion. Perhaps this is the meaning of Niubei Mountain: it makes you believe that above ordinary life, there always exists a poetic possibility.