Days in the Mountain

There was this regular tram with its body covered in colourful graffiti of enlarged letters. The tram arrived at the station, but the doors were yet to open. Jonas stood before these letters that were twisting and displaying their grimy colours obtrusively. He closed his eyes and started to imagine an evening. In Greece, in December, the sunset appears punctually at five o'clock, and night falls at six o'clock, a time when the artists can start packing up their aerosol spray paint, markers, fire extinguishers, and wall paint. After having dinner, they put on hooded sweatshirts and hats, disappearing into the night as the Athenian nightlife begins around ten. They gather at the station, ignoring the signs that prohibit entry and slip into the dark passage, climb onto the tram, and begin to create. When the tram system wakes up the next day, their artwork will roam all over Athens. Jonas stared at those bold letters, immersing himself deeply in the minds of those artists. When he thought of how art and destruction are only separated by a thin line, he felt excited. If only he had the chance to do the same, Jonas thought. Becoming a performance artist and engaging in something thrilling was Jonas’ dream. He wanted to showcase his ideas to all citizens of Athens. The doors opened, and Jonas withdrew from his imagination. Now, he was no longer the idealistic youth but just an ordinary high school student experiencing the most dreadful crisis he could imagine.

Jonas zipped up his jacket and quickly found a seat on the tram. Sitting down, he took out his phone and began browsing Instagram. He stared blankly at his reflection on the screen, indifferent to the endlessly refreshing reels and posts. Marjorie had just posted a story, and he instinctively wanted to tap on her blinking profile picture, but he hesitated and retracted his finger just before pressing it. He refreshed the page, looking at the constant stream of posts and wondered, 'Do these videos somehow represent me?' The video at the top was about soccer, based on his preferences and browsing history. Could one judge him as a soccer enthusiast based on these videos? He didn't want to think about it further. Research once claimed that people spend over half their time daydreaming about the future, but for Jonas, half of his daydreaming was spent contemplating the past. He thought about his mental state two days ago. If today he were a soccer video, then he would be a doormat two days ago. He confessed to Marjorie, telling her how he felt, but she didn't care at all. Just like the citizens of Athens who didn't appreciate artists' hard work in the night, Marjorie and her friends failed to recognise his effort. Jonas recalled when he planned to stroll through the streets with Marjorie during the summer. But fearing she might suffer from heatstroke, Jonas rented two bicycles instead.

Beside the bikes, Jonas put on his latest version of AirPods, handing one to Marjorie. He put the song "Vincent" on repeat because he knew Marjorie loved Vincent van Gogh. Jonas replayed fragments of that day in his mind: fearing Marjorie might get distracted while biking with headphones, he rode ahead to lead the way for her. Everything seemed so romantic: summer, music, blue sky, bikes, and a pretty girl. Jonas felt like a knight escorting a princess as he rode ahead, feeling the cool breeze between the traffic. But after Marjorie's friend said, "You're self-centred," Marjorie confessed that the outing (or the date in the way Jonas would call it) wasn't enjoyable. Jonas was riding too fast, and the distance between them was too long, causing the AirPods and his phone to disconnect two minutes after they started riding. Everyone told Jonas to move on, but he didn't understand what it meant to move on. If moving on meant he had to admit he was a failure who gave up easily, he would refuse to do so.

But then, what could he do if he chose not to move on? How could he win Marjorie's heart again? Jonas had no idea. Right now, he was just a heartbroken young man taking an impromptu journey on a tram. The destination of this journey was a small town on the outskirts of Greece called Springwater Town. The town was up in the mountains, and after arriving at the station, Jonas would need to take a bus to reach the town. Jonas lived in the southern part of Athens, close to the sea. So, this time, he deliberately chose Springwater Town in the mountains to change his mood. Jonas got off the tram before ten o'clock, so all the shops hadn’t opened yet. He strolled along the cobblestone streets, glancing at the shop windows. He feels a sense of calmness. He didn’t need to think about anything; he just needed to observe and absorb everything around him objectively. He only needed to accept everything about this town—the scenery, the people, the weather. He was like a ceramic cup, waiting for somebody to pour something into him —no judgment but only acceptance. He stood on a bridge with bright orange flowers hanging from the railing, guiding his gaze to the road beneath the bridge. An old man was struggling to walk up the slope with a cane. The orange flowers, the way-too-abundant sunlight, the old man, and the green trees behind him touched Jonas deeply. He saw himself in the old man, struggling uphill, knowing something beautiful was waiting for him ahead but still feeling afraid because of the unknown. Fear made people hunch over, unable to look forward, let alone appreciate the beautiful flowers and solemn trees on the sides. Jonas continued walking and saw a shop with a macaron pink canopy. Two pink motorcycles were parked in front of the shop, and each outdoor round table had a peach-coloured menu. Behind one of the motorcycles was a large cradle-like swing adorned with pink flowers similar to the ones he had seen earlier.

Next to the swing was a leafless tree, taller than the shop's canopy. It stubbornly stretched its branches, casting its twisted shadow on the canopy. Jonas wanted to sit on the swing for a while, but he didn't want to disturb the peaceful atmosphere. He liked this feeling of being a stranger; he found the unfamiliar air refreshing. On this sparsely populated morning, he could observe without intruding, absorbing everything objectively. Moving forward, Jonas saw an arched wooden door with ivy covering the upper left corner of the door. For some reason, this door reminded Jonas of religion. Perhaps a saint was secretly practising inside, and the ivy was the only witness.

He saw another wood shop, where round wooden trays were displayed at the entrance, covered by a canopy adorned with wooden canes resembling the candy canes we eat during Christmas. The canes hung over the wooden trays like guitars or lutes. Finally, he arrived at an arched bridge where a spring flowed, almost like a small waterfall. Jonas crossed the bridge and found himself alone in the surroundings, so he sat on a moss-covered rock next to the waterfall. The rock was slippery due to the moss and mud, and Jonas nearly slipped several times. He leaned against the root of an old tree, observing the water cascading from above to below, forming a miniature waterfall. As he watched the drops of water fell without any deliberate purpose, he began to cry. Why did the heavens create water, a substance that yields to external forces, willingly falls, or cares nothing about falling? Does water have consciousness? Most likely not. Falling without consciousness, flowing without consciousness, touching the rocks and moss without consciousness, evaporating and solidifying without consciousness, transforming in various ways without consciousness…….How Jonas wished he had no consciousness, that he could simply exist purely, accepting his fate and following the guidance of a higher power if such a force existed!  How he wished he could believe in destiny, in the presence of a god. That way, he would have a reason, an excuse to follow the rules, to submit to fate. The ideal state would be to be like water, obeying the laws of nature without consciousness. But Jonas was different; he was a human, fully aware of his existence, and that was something he couldn't change. So he had to rely on something else, some greater force to guide his life, to elevate himself to a higher level, rather than being the heartbroken young man crying by the spring. Religion might be able to guide him, but his consciousness told him otherwise, that such a power couldn't possibly exist. If it did, why were there countless people suffering from unfortunate destinies? If it did, why did it only call upon him by the spring when he was in despair?

Jonas couldn't answer his questions, and the unknown filled him with great fear. He didn't know who could control his future or take responsibility for his situation.

Around noon, he climbed up to the higher part of the town following a staircase. There was a large restaurant there. It was about 1 p.m., and the Greeks had just started enjoying their lunch. He ordered spaghetti with meat sauce and mushroom soup. Spaghetti with meat sauce and mushroom soup was a dish he always ordered at any restaurant. Doing so made him feel like he still had some control over the present situation.

After the meal, he entered a museum exhibiting works of the Byzantine era. The first artwork he saw upon entering was a horizontal tapestry. Except for the faces of the saints left bare, the bodies and garments of the figures, including Jesus, were embroidered with golden threads. Jesus, lying on the golden embroidery with his eyes closed, appeared as if he was floating above the embroidery, detached from anyone or anything, with his body seemingly about to soar out of the tapestry toward Jonas. Despite the serene facial expression and posture of Jesus at the moment of his death, Jonas perceived something dynamic, something related to “flight” in this piece of work.

The centre of the second painting was a man riding a horse. He was dressed in a red cloak and held an extremely thin spear. Following the slender spear, Jonas could see a dragon at its end. It was a depiction of a dragon-slaying warrior. This dragon was utterly different from the terrifying dragon in Jonas's imagination. To put it simply, the proportions of the warrior and the dragon were like those of an adult male and a dachshund. However, the evil dragon looked extremely ugly, resembling a dachshund with no ears and two wings, with a twisted tail like a python, and its entire body covered in repulsive scales. It seemed effortless for the warrior to slay this evil dragon.

The third painting seemed to depict the resurrection of Jesus. Jesus was positioned in the upper-middle part of the painting, standing on golden clouds, dressed in golden silk, and with a radiant halo above his head. Below him were soldiers fleeing in all directions, their faces filled with astonishment, and one even fainted. The description "like soldiers fleeing from a defeated army" would suit them.

The last painting depicted a tense, dramatic conflict. On the left and right sides of the canvas were two men dressed in yellow robes and red leggings. The man on the left was holding a plate with a severed head, while the man on the right held a blood-stained knife in one hand and gestures with the other, seemingly discussing some strategy with another person. In between them lies a headless body wearing a dark green robe. The body was in a prostrate position, and blood continued to spurt from the neck, painted with colours matching the stockings of those men. The artist had depicted the spurting blood as strands, giving it a solid appearance and the shape of the blood splattered on the ground resembles an unravelling red yarn ball, a "spray of blood."

Jonas was deeply moved. In this museum of artworks, the video of human life seemed to be a cycle of death and resurrection, where you got killed, resurrected, and then killed others (people or dragons). The fate of individuals was determined - first, you endure suffering, and then it becomes your turn to impart suffering to others. In the museum, there were only silent staff and no other visitors. It was as if the museum was constructed for his self-analysis. People were constantly experiencing suffering; even in the Byzantine era, some got killed, some slayed dragons, and some dedicated themselves to some higher power. Whether this cycle of suffering is worth it or not, such performances had been recurring from ancient times to the present. Perhaps, the joys and sorrows of humanity are not universal, especially when it came to moral standards, as laws and social responsibilities changes with time and culture. However, suffering is universal. It is this universality that makes Jonas feel ashamed and insignificant. Perhaps the weight of his own suffering was not even comparable to a single painting.

In the evening, he returned to the hotel, "Stairway to Heaven," located on the mountainside. As he fell asleep, his emotions remained unsettled, a mix of sadness and melancholy. About two or three hours later, Jonas suddenly heard a banging sound, as if someone was pounding on the inn door with a wooden stake. Jonas got up, picked up a vase, and decided to see who it was. When he opened the door, he saw a man dressed in Byzantine clothing, holding an iron nail in one hand and an iron hammer in the other, seemingly nailing something to Jonas's door. Jonas asked, "Hello, do you need my help?" The man simply stopped his work and looked at him without speaking. Jonas stepped out of the inn, intending to see what the man was nailing to his door.

As he approached the front of the door, he saw the face of a man carved into it. The man had shoulder-length brown hair and some facial hair. Looking further down, the man's body appeared lean, with arms outstretched and legs together, forming a crucifixion pose. He was engraved on Jonas's door. However, what truly frightened and bewildered Jonas was not the sight of what appeared to be the manifestation of Jesus, but rather the man's face. It was an exact copy of Jonas's own face. The person holding the hammer noticed Jonas's shocked expression but continued with his task. "Bang, bang!" The sound made Jonas feel an ache in his hands and the soles of his feet, while Jesus, as Jonas assumed him to be, just gazed at him with a compassionate smile that spoke of enduring suffering. In a soft voice, he uttered a word, "Bear."

Jonas finally understood that bearing one's personal suffering is a virtue. In English, "bear" also means to give birth, as if virtue is born out of suffering. He recalled the ancient Greek philosopher Aristotle's concept of "eudaimonia," the ideal state achieved when individuals perfectly interpret the meaning of their existence. Jonas was now walking the uphill road called suffering, and only by enduring it, treating it as a necessary path, could he eventually reach the state of "eudaimonia." This concept is reflected in ancient Greek philosophy, Christianity, and even Buddhism, as suffering is a universal experience.

If this state, this necessary suffering, exists, why did it call him only when he was heartbroken and desperate? Jonas recalled the morning by the spring. This power could only summon him when he was heartbroken and desperate because it was then that he could understand the meaning of his existence through suffering. All suffering must be endured.

This power is not a religion, not a belief, not God. It is the call from suffering, existing only within the mountain.