Mountain Soul Nourishes the Heart: Drawing Spiritual Energy from the Peaks‌

Standing at the 3,000-meter pass, the wind whips snowflakes across my cheeks. Gazing down at the endless sea of clouds, I suddenly understand why ancient people wrote “the benevolent find joy in mountains” into their classics. Those moments spent in the mountains, often deemed “useless” by modern people, are precisely the fertile soil that nourishes the spiritual world.

I. The Silent Philosophy of the Mountains

When the torrent of information in the city floods our brains at a rate of millions of bytes per second, the mountains construct another cognitive system through their silence. Taoist hermits in Zhongnan Mountain rise at the hour of Yin and chant scriptures at the hour of Mao. This lifestyle, following the natural rhythm, allows their brainwaves to exhibit a unique advantage in α-waves. Modern neuroscience confirms that this state significantly enhances focus and creativity.

The Japanese tea ceremony’s aesthetic of “wabi-sabi,” the beauty of imperfection, originates from mountain culture. Philosophers in Kyoto gradually realize that perfectionism is the root of modern spiritual anxiety as they walk the mountain paths of Sagano. Just like the mountains themselves—those rock walls carved by glaciers, those tree stumps split by lightning—each tells the story of the eternal value of imperfection.

II. Survival Wisdom in the Vertical World

My experience following a guide on the Meili Snow Mountain helped me understand the “three-second rule” of mountaineers: pause for three seconds after every three steps to observe the environment. This bodily memory later transformed into my work methodology—maintaining necessary pauses amidst the data torrent. The Sherpas of the Himalayas have a tradition: each mountaineer leaves a “spiritual stone” at the camp. These stones, engraved with scriptures, serve as both markers and reminders to maintain reverence.

American psychologist Maslow’s “peak experience” in Motivation and Personality was inspired by his hiking experiences in the White Mountains. The bursts of inspiration at high altitudes are essentially the brain’s activation of backup cognitive modes under oxygen-deprived conditions. Just like the shepherds of the Alps, who take five years to fully master the prediction of mountain microclimates, this deep cognition requires time and dialogue with the mountains.

III. Modern Translation of Mountain Spirit

The ancient Chinese aesthetic tradition of “climbing mountains brings emotion to the mountains” has evolved into new forms in the contemporary era. The “mountain lifestyle” (Yama Style) popular among Beijing white-collar workers is essentially the transformation of the mountain’s vertical thinking into a redefinition of living space. Those who grow high-altitude plants on their balconies, or hang pictures of snow-capped mountains in their offices, are practicing a kind of elevation of spiritual altitude.

Korean architect Seung H-Sang’s “mountain-shaped residence” transforms the urban space of Seoul into a spiritual mountain experience. Through 12-degree inclined walls and movement paths simulating mountain climbing, residents complete a “spiritual ascent” every day. This design philosophy was later borrowed by Silicon Valley tech companies, creating office layouts called “thinking valleys.”

When we feel suffocated in the city’s glass curtain walls, the mountains still maintain their ancient rhythm. Those experiences called “mountain’s breath” by mountaineers are essentially humanity’s return to the spiritual homeland. As Proust wrote in In Search of Lost Time: “The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.” Perhaps what we need is not more information, but to learn from the mountains—to learn to gather strength in silence.