The glass mountain. Beautiful, but utterly unattainable. Too large to walk around; impossible to scale. You simply can’t get any traction. There are no footholds, and as soon as you set your foot on the glistening slope of it, back down again it goes. All the way back, all the way down. And yet everything you need is on the other side of it. Everything you’re yearning for – all the things you know that you must have, and all the things you can’t yet begin to imagine you might. All the things you’ve lost, allowed carelessly to slip away from you. Lost loves, lost treasures. Lost parts of yourself, carried away by the monsters you didn’t see coming.
A young girl marries a big black bull who turns out to be an enchanted prince. When she fails to obey his instructions to sit still on a stone until he returns from fighting an old foe, her new husband is lost to her. Searching for him far and wide, she comes finally to an enormous glass mountain which blocks her way. Around the bottom of the mountain she wanders, sobbing, but never finding any way over it. At last, she comes to the house of a blacksmith, who promises, if she will serve him for seven long years, that he will make her a pair of iron shoes which would allow her to climb across the glassy hill. She puts in the hard work, completes her apprenticeship, puts on her new shoes, and away she goes, away to the land of her heart’s desire.
The seven brothers of a young woman who is ill set off to a healing well to fetch water from her, but their jug falls into the well. When they don’t return that day, their father curses them, and turns them into seven ravens. When their sister is grown, she sets out in search of her brothers. She tries first to obtain help from the sun, which is too hot; then the moon, which only craves human flesh, and then the morning star. The star helps her by giving her a chicken bone, telling her that she will need it to save her brothers. She finds her brothers inside a glass mountain. But she has lost the chicken bone which will open up the mountain to her, so she chops off a finger to use as a key. She finds them there, and they are saved; together, they return home.
On another glass mountain, in a land far across the sea, grows a tree which bears apples of gold. Just a single apple will allow you to enter the golden castle where an enchanted princess lives. Many men have tried and failed to attain that apple, and their bodies are scattered around the bottom of the mountain. A knight in golden armour attempts the task, trying for many long days. One day, he tries for the top of the mountain, and is climbing steadily up it when an eagle attacks him. He and his horse fall to their deaths. A schoolboy kills a lynx, and scales the mountain with its claws attached to his hands and feet. Weary, he rests for a while, halfway up the slope. The eagle imagines that he’d make a good meal, and flies on down to eat him. But the boy grabs hold of the eagle and, trying to shake him off, it succeeds only in carrying him the rest of the way up. At the top of the mountain, he cuts off the eagle’s feet, and promptly falls into the tree which bore golden apples. The peel of an apple cures his wounds, and he picks more, which allows him into the castle. He marries the faraway princess, the inaccessible one, the queen of his dreams.
The glass mountain. Beautiful, remote, pitiless. Utterly itself. Proud sentinel, guardian of the path to paradise.
When I was in my mid-thirties, I scaled a glass mountain. I apprenticed myself for just a year to the North, South, East and West Winds, and the merciless fire-gods of a great southwestern desert. At the end of that year, I received the treasure which finally would set me free.
Or: it was in the New Mexico desert that, at the age of thirty-nine, I completed the last stage in my year-long journey of learning to fly to overcome a fear of flying. I tested myself against extremes of heat and wind, and in that crosswind-buffeted, afternoon-turbulent, eccentric Wild-Western desert, I took my final test with an equally eccentric, crusty old ex-US Marine who called me ‘little lady’ at least ten times, but laughed like a lunatic and congratulated me for my ‘gumption’ when I refused to follow a navigation suggestion of his that I didn’t consider to be wise. During that year of dancing with Death in turbulent American skies, I felt more alive than I had ever felt before. By the end of it, standing now on an arid desert runway, clutching the flimsy pink slip of paper that I could trade in for my pilot’s license, I was utterly transformed. If I could do this, I firmly believed, I could do anything. And the first thing I did was finally to break free from the stultifying corporate job that had represented safety for too many years, and I thoroughly reimagined my life.
Life on the other side of the glass mountain isn’t always easy; it was never intended to be. The story doesn’t end there. Our stories never end there. Once you’ve crossed that first glass mountain, you’ll be forever haunted by the ghost of it. Glints and glimmers at the edges of your vision will tantalise you; news of fresh sightings of it will seek you out and beckon you on. Perhaps, next time you attempt the crossing, you’ll slip out of the eagle’s claws, down and down and on through that long delirious burning blue, and die. But maybe you won’t. Maybe the branches of the golden tree will snag you and save you, after all. Maybe you’ll find that new treasure you didn’t even know you’d been looking for. The treasure that will transform you utterly … until whispers of that big old glass mountain come around again.
Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done,
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
W.B. Yeats, ‘The Song of Wandering Aengus’
I needed to hear this today. Thank you for having the courage to journey, the curiosity to capture the imagination offered and the wisdom to bring it back home to offer the tribal fire.
Ah, thank you.
Thank you Sharon. Thank you for the continued inspiration. This so resonates with me – putting words to my own path.
Deep bow ????
Thank you, Sharon. This was the message I needed today! So rich with wisdom for this leg of the journey I’m on.
Thank you Sharon. It is always such a pleasure to read you. So..the key to glass mountains is courage, I think…and trust
And submission to the fine art of apprenticeship!
And what is it that we see reflected in the glass? The Soul that awaits our inward glance. No more glass mountains for me. Been there, done that!
I love the “glass mountain” myth. Hard to climb but worth the challenge. I’m guessing that death is the last one we will encounter. May we all be prepared. Thank you for your sharing.
blessings, judith
Yes, indeed. With the apprenticeship to Death in preparation for that crossing something that’s worth spending long years on.
Pondering…
I’ve walked many paths as an apprentice, always a student, spiralling, scaling mountains,
falling and or being caught…just noticing.
Always grateful for the teachings.
Thank you
Loved the glass Mountain, mum did her time on earth and she found the glass mountain and reached Dad after all these years and it was as if no time had come between them. They were together again and free to fly.
Thank you from the heart, for these ringing echoes from the deep well.
I’ve given chase to the Black Bull of Norroway (though I like its variant, East of the Sun, West of the Moon, aka the Princess and the White Bear King, better); but the other two have eluded me, can you give a hint where I can follow their tracks?
The second is the story of the Seven Ravens, included in the Brothers Grimm collection. The third, a Polish tale entitled ‘The Glass Mountain’, which you can also find in Andrew Lang’s Yellow Fairy Book. Careful out there. That old story-spoor is powerful magic. But if you’ve followed the trails beyond the sun and the moon, you’ll know that full well!
Ah, the gift of a marvelous story, wonderfully told and anchored with an adventure in our life time! Thank you, Sharon, for sharing another of your many gifts!
Thank you! Create the space for them, and the words will come …
I lived in Taos, New Mexico (built a strawbale house) then Santa Fe for around 20 years…. what an enchanted time… am back here in the UK, finding the unfolding of ancient ways to embrace into the new, connecting my spirit with powerful remembrance , of cracking bellies of fire, and wisdom .Thank you all ways for your kind wisdom and generous spirit .
Beautiful Taos … New Mexico is still a place I love to visit, with all its fiery desert wisdom. Thank you for reading.
After reading If Women Rose Rooted, a move to Taos from Oregon became a quest and we moved quite suddenly from our comfortable retirement to….what? The mystery of the Enchanted Land of northern New Mexico. I started leading hiking and cultural tours. You never know what lies beyond the Glass Mountain until you take the leap!
Precisely. And plenty of magical mountains where you are now …
Reading your marvelous story and watching the sun come up over the mountains – the perfect way to start my day. Thank you for your insight and commitment.
Thank you!
Dear Sharon, I am so very inspired by your book if Women Rose Rooted, which I am currently reading. I climbed my first glass mountain at age 38, when I left a toxic marriage and many friends in a beautiful town in Michigan to move to coastal North Carolina to start a new life. Then, after 20 years in an academic/corporate job that I loved for many years but which became a toxic pit of stress in the later years, I was fired (yet had already been contemplating my escape for a good while). This meant freedom in certain respects, but it happened right before the pandemic, and I am now sheltering in place not only because of that but also because I take care of my mother who has dementia. I long to be physically free, so I am in a new liminal space learning the lesson of patience now.
The time between stories. That’s a fertile place too.
I am a family caregiver also, (long term – over 20 years now) to my disabled daughter. I used to think I was missing out on life because of caregiving. I realize now that caregiving is an apprenticeship of the heart, that our culture does not value. In her case its also an apprenticeship to the healing arts.
My own apprenticeship has been multiple things: understanding the true meaning and gifts of sacrifice, which again I think our culture- that is so focused on individual happiness- greatly minimizes. An opportunity to experience a depth of love and acceptance that I wouldn’t have known without it, and an initiation into being a healer.
Just wanted to offer a wider perspective on what caregiving can nurture in us. As the Buddhists say, the obstacle is the path.
Thank you Sharon for sharing these powerful stories and also your personal story. I am 35 years old and spent last 7 years in a corporate environement wanting to free myself from it for the last 4 years… I am handing my notice in today, finally.
Thank you for being you 🙂 Ela
Congratulations on handing in your notice, Ela. Good luck and all the best going forward!
Oh my – what a fine and brave move. Wishing you all the best in your continued adventure!
congratulations on your notice! It is so freeing!
Here, on a pre-dawn Feb.1, 2022, out of the gloaming, your words unearth deep memories, hidden ideas and a beloved, shining, exhilarating treasure:
The Windhover
Gerard Manley Hopkins
I caught this morning morning’s minion, king-
dom of daylight’s dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding
Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding
High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing,
As a skate’s heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding
Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird, – the achieve of, the mastery of the thing!
Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here
Buckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion
Times told lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier!
No wonder of it: shéer plód makes plough down sillion
Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,
Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermilion.
How beautiful, thank you.
Oh Hopkins magic! I love him too
What an inspiring story …. Cysaphys (spelling?) Finally gets the stone over the hill rather than it rolling back down! Thanks I needed this today.
Yes, fairy tales are usually a little easier that way than myths!
Thank you so much Sharon for initiating such a rich discussion through the wonderful glass mountain tales.
I saw this in my inbox and have saved it all day. Buried with work, I saved it to enjoy. What a splendid decision! Such a joy for the end of my long day. I am reassured of my courage to think about earlier glass mountains.. and aged 55 am thinking of where my calling is leading me to now. I know, deep down, and am clearing the space to facilitate my apprenticeship. How lovely for the day of Imbolc. You are so inspiring and I am so deeply thankful to be able to share this space with you and fellow seekers.
Thank you!
Xx
Ah thank you too!
Beautiful. I needed this story as a reminder and nudge today. Thank you!
A good story always comes at the right time, I think!
Thank you for writing this Sharon. You are a courageous, and fascinating woman. I love hearing the tales, and the greatest tale of all is another part of your life.
The “poem at the end was absolutely perfect. Be well
Thank you! I’ve obviously been watching too much Boris Johnson and Westminster because at first I read ‘fascinating’ as ‘fascist …’
I feel like I just climbed one of my glass mountains…followed my heart and moved across the country, away from my family and our farm, which I love more than anything. I miss the elevation and the sun and the air of the prairie. Waiting to see what’s on the other of the mountain here by the sea with my love (who, funnily enough, is a pilot…and I’m afraid of flying)
I would say I have an answer for that but I suspect most people have more sense! Best of luck in your new place.
I am inspired by how you conquered fear of flying and have seriously wondered if I should just learn to fly…
I am on my way to my glass mountain. At the age of 68 I am retraining to be a counsellor and moving to Inverness where I know no one but it feels the right place. I am leaving an area where I have many friends and a marriage which has gone toxic. This story abd your experience, Sharon, helps tremendously when I feel afraid.
Olga, I think you will enjoy it up here. There are good and interesting folk with whom, I am sure, you will quickly make connections. And nature! So raw and powerful here, it never fails to excite and heal. Welcome to the North and good luck.
If you would like some help finding your feet and, perhaps, finding your tribe and community, please feel free to ask. I will help with anything I can.
Inverness was my closest city for a good few years. It’s a fine place. Best of luck there.
This is just perfect for today and the new moon. Thank you Sharon.???
7 years in the dreaming, climbing my own sheer and impossibly high glass mountain, I am just clambering to the top…..
I can see the form of my beautiful art, meditation, music and writing studio emerging like a moth from it’s chrysalis.
My longed for creative space is not yet finished but it’s ‘clear up’ day today and I am sitting here with near disbelief and a silly smile on my face that refuses to dissipate.
In the quiet place at the end of my long skinny unkempt garden, 100 years of mess and detritus that surrounded the old building neck deep are at last being tackled and the newly constructed studio will be accessible to me for the first time in a long time. So later I will stand in it’s lovely magickal space.and make plans for the final exciting hurdle of hanging the antique door, the decoration inside and the all important pathway.
There will be much joy and thankfulness after overcoming long and testing trials of fire and ice.
Right now I can hardly breathe.
That sounds wonderful! – and very best of luck with it.
So far this is the only meaningful blog I can find on the internet, and this it’s most meaningful post.
Hoping to find space this year for more like this.
This walkabout through the pandemic has had me weeping and walking around my glass mountains. Turning 39 last month I found myself resolved and ready to start my seven years of hard work. Thank you Sharon.
What I love about fairy tales is that there’s never any sense of the hard work of apprenticeship being resented – unless of course it’s one of those stories about two sisters, one of whom contrasts with the other by virtue of her laziness. Mostly, it’s something that’s simply accepted as the price of transformation.
The glass mountain – the four tasks of Aphrodite. Both seem impossible, unless you have the tenacity and some help from unlikely sources. I so appreciate your tenacity, Sharon, both in your personal life and the wisdom you share with us who are also on this quest.
Yes. Glass mountains and other seemingly impossible tasks, and especially impossible (for the female protagonists, anyway) to solve/scale alone.
Thank you Sharon, as always your writing brings so much peace, clarity and fire. Beautiful x
Thank you!
I love the “glass mountain” myth. Hard to climb but worth the challenge and I’ve had many as most of us have. I’m guessing that death is the last one we will encounter. May we all be prepared. Thank you for your sharing.
blessings, judith
My glass mountain was elusive until my son took his own life during the pandemic, unable to deal with the financial loss due to shutdown. I’m not sure I would have appreciated this myth as much without the pain of that experience. Understanding that this is part of my journey, albeit in my advanced years, is no easy task (nor a willing one), but I feel this helps me to clarify what I’m up against. I have appreciated your writings for a few years now, but none more than today.
Oh, I’m so sorry. As a psychologist I do genuinely believe that the biggest and most beautiful transformations are impossible without pain, but that doesn’t make it any easier, and certainly not to be desired. Hoping that this season of the return of the light brings you some joy, nevertheless.
Judith, May the memory of your son be a blessing to you. We have all suffered such losses individually and collectively these past two years. I was touched by your sharing. May the road ahead bring you love and light and some comfort and healing.
Dia dhuit
Thank you for the stories of the glass mountains and in our engagement , our initiation there we may find our gift and purpose
Always your recognition, your words help me to see, When I see I then understand.
I see this morning’s star. Slan agus beannacht
Merrill
Thank you.
How many more glass mountains I wonder do I have to scale – feel like I’m at the bottom of another one again. Hoping those amazing vultures that fly so high around here might lend me some wings.
The female protagonists, especially, in these old stories always find help – sometimes in the most unlikely places. Hope it’s so for you.
Having read the Glass Mountain three time through I’ve noticed twice in the past week my dreams are of a disjointed nature inwhich I am outside of myself watching the dreams as if projected on a screen (a new perception for me). Most bizarrely, one dream included a reference to the “glass ceiling”. Such rich thoughts and opportunities for imagining my life stages differently.
As always Sharon, what draws me to your teachings is the energy of the apprentice role. Thank you.
Ha! Yes, of course, Mary – the reflective nature of glass would be a ‘thing’ too, like a screen in which we can see ourselves mirrored. And the idea of a glass ceiling has many resonances. I’m sorry to be infiltrating your dreams in that way but right now it’s the only way I’m going to get back to the desert for a while!
Thank you Sharon. As ever thought provoking and challenging. These stories lead me back to my challenge at the moment, which is understanding the difference between what we want and what we need. The former is lead by the ego with its associated hubris and greed (Wetiko), while the latter can only really be understood by our ‘true self’.
”We think that the problems of the world and of ourselves can only be solved through “doing,” not realising that it is this focus on ceaseless activity that has created much of our present imbalance. Rather than always asking, “What should I do?,” we can learn to reflect, “How should I be?” -Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee.
We are after all human beings not human doings. Not an easy change to make.
Indeed. And that’s precisely why long apprenticeships are a good idea – especially when they include tasks which teach us how to sort the wheat from the chaff, for example …