There is a book written in the ’40’s called “The Living Mountain”. It was written by a Scottish woman named Nan Shepherd. She spent her life exploring a mountain in a small area of Scotland in the Highlands and wrote a book about what she learned. She apparently spent hundreds of days and walked thousands of miles exploring this mountain. People thought it was ‘parochial’ which has a negative connotation of having a limited or narrow view. Just one mountain for 44 years??? What can you possibly say? What can you learn? Apparently a lot.
This author talked about what she discovered in studying this one mountain, not just the surface but deep into it and the surrounding area. She visited this mountain many times in the 44 years she was studying it, finding areas of hidden warrens, holes, hibernating dens, ponds and lakes around it, and nesting place. She went deep.
Sounds like our meditation practice—looking around, going deep, looking into hidden warrens.
I don’t have a mountain near me but I thought about my gardens. I have 5 large gardens plus the periphery around my property and around my house. Almost all are perennial gardens but I reserve some space for vegetables. And every year, every day, every week, every season, it’s different. I’ve been building, developing, changing, working with my gardens for over 2 decades. I spend a lot of time in the dirt.
A neighbor recently asked me if I designed them. I wanted to say, “Why yes of course.” With pride. But, not really. I knew the general scheme of it. I knew I wanted some grasses in the back of the big garden at the corner of my property, and a big shrub to center the garden. I knew I wanted things to bloom from early spring to late fall and to have some structure in the winter when everything else has died back. But mostly, I just read gardening books, went shopping or got ideas from other people’s gardens. I’d roam neighborhoods and look at other people’s gardens and borrow ideas.
Each day when I went out to my gardens, especially after a rain, it was different. Weeds grew overnight. Flowers sprouted that weren’t there before. Or some flowers were past their bloom and needed deadheading. Now that it’s winter, my garden takes on a different look. Much of it is cut back but there are still plants that stay all winter and give it structure.
I often find a surprise in my garden. Things I never planted but chipmunks or squirrels brought them. I got something new. This past year, it was how many daises I had in my garden and how tall they were. And I couldn’t find my black eye susans. They disappeared over the winter. It’s a constant changing experience. A surprise every time.
I really have little control over my garden even with all the work I put into it. I can expect most of my flowers to come back year after year since I only plant perennials. But even then, that’s no guarantee it will look the same. They may have multiplied and now are too big for the space. Or they died. Or during the summer a beetle ate them. Even with all my work, there’s always something new from year to year as well as from day to day, week to week. Can I be with my garden like Nan Shepherd was with her mountain?
Maybe you have something like her mountain or my garden that you can immerse yourself into. Music or reading for example. Of course, our meditation offers an opportunity for immersion too. Going deep, exploring new vistas or visiting the same ones again and again.
Sometimes going deep doesn’t happen. Our meditation practice is constantly changing, sometimes surprising us in spite of our best intentions. We may set an intention for a sitting but in a few minutes we’re somewhere else. We want to focus on x but y and z pop up. Or we go to sleep.
The Buddha wanted us to be with our experience, aware as best we can and to learn from our it. This is how we practice in Reflective Meditation—with openness, receptivity and curiosity.
Nan Shepherd describes how over time she ceased ‘making always for the summits in the tradition of male mountaineering literature, and instead learned to substitute plateau for peaks and to go into the hills aimlessly to be with the mountain.’
She also says “The eye sees what it didn’t see before, or sees in a new way what it had already seen. So the ear, the other senses. These moments come unpredictably, yet governed, it would seem, by a law whose working is dimly understood.” Sounds like our meditation practice.
Just like Nan Shepherd, the goal isn’t to strive for the peaks or a ‘good sitting’ but be with it all.
Sometimes it’s hard to wait for the insight to arise or become clear. Or maybe we have the same insight over and over before it sinks in. That’s the nature of a meditation practice. We don’t have control; we can only be with the flow, exploring deep into the mountain of our experience. Looking for what’s not obvious, hidden. Deadheading old patterns/ideas/opinions/judgments as we learn new ones. Fertilizing the qualities we want in our lives.
I admit I get frustrated when I go through the same pattern over and over. I realized when I wrote this that I’m learning things. Cultivating patience, kindness to myself as things unfold, recognizing that clarity and insight come on their own time and I can’t make them come faster. I have no control over how, if or when insights or clarity will come. Just like the 44 years Nan studied her mountain and how much she learned by going over the same territory again and again.
So I invite you to consider what explorations you make in your meditation practice, what you learn by seeing what you didn’t see before or see in a different way and what learning comes from that.
This article is also available as a podcast episode from Sati Sangha.
The photograph above, “Scottish Highlands Last Spring” by James D Rucker, is licensed under CC BY 2.0 
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What a wonderful piece Erica. Now, I am inspired to check out the YDL book catalog and see if they have this. And, your garden is always beautiful; even resting/dreaming of the new Spring to come. Happy growing dearheart.
Thank you. I appreciate your regular reading of my posts and your comments. I can hardly wait to start in my garden.
Agreed with the previous writer, Erica. What a beautiful piece. I was transported back to Scotland and had lovely pleasant memories.
So good to catch up with you through you writings which always give me so much to think about .
Keep on keeping on!
I remember our Italian trip too!
Best, Dianne
Is Scotland as beautiful as I hear? It always seems rugged, windswept, and cold.
I’m so glad to keep in touch this way.
I remember our Italian trip too, It was so much fun.
Thank you Erica. This is a wonderful read. Nans mountain is such a beautiful metaphor for our meditation practise. “She also says “The eye sees what it didn’t see before, or sees in a new way what it had already seen. So the ear, the other senses. These moments come unpredictably, yet governed, it would seem, by a law whose working is dimly understood.” Sounds like our meditation practice.” I agree. Its true. So many aspects of our inner world are seen or internalised differently from one day to the next. Like Nan, we go back again and again, learning something new each time.
Thank you for your comment. That quote touched me too. I’m going to put it on a sticky and post it on my refrigerator. A wonderful reminder of what our practice can do for us.