The Mountain of knowledge stands tall, immovable. It is the greatest of all. Its influence is undeniable and its structure imposing. Only the greatest dare to climb it. And when they do, they return humbled, silent. I have seen the Mountain and felt its shade. I journeyed the lands to tell all of its greatness.

I found the builder, building a castle. The builder received me courteously, covered in sweat and dust. Grasping a hammer in one hand, and an stone in another. I told the builder, “The Mountain of knowledge inspires your design, it provides you material to build. You’re castle is quite great Builder, but it cannot compete with the grandeur of the Mountain. The Mountain is wisest of all”. “Yes”, the builder agreed, “surely”, and gazed at the Mountain.

I found the leader, seated on a throne. Chosen by the people, with undeniable authority. The leader sat in fine clothes, atop a golden seat, at the end of the great hall. Grasping a gavel in one hand, and a sword in the other. I told the leader, “The Mountain of Knowledge cannot be conquered. It governs you, the governor. And it is the source of your power. Your wisdom is quite great Leader, but it cannot compete with the Mountain. The Mountain is greatest of all”. “Yes”, the leader agreed, “surely”, and gazed at the Mountain.

I found the painter, standing in front of an easel, In deep contemplation. Contemplating the natural and the artificial. The artist held a brush in one hand, and a key in the other. I told the painter, “The Mountain of Knowledge is the source of your creativity. From atop it you see your vistas. Your paintings are beautiful Painter, but they cannot compete with the beauty of the Mountain. The Mountain is the most beautiful of all”. “Yes”, the painter agreed, “surely”, and gazed at the Mountain.

Finally, I found the Jester, performing in front of an audience. Holding a lyre in one hand and a mask in the other. Master of sight, sound, and emotion. “The Mountain of Knowledge is the source of your insight into the human soul. Its slopes defy even your best melodies. Your performance is dazzling Jester, but you cannot compete with the presence of the mountain”. The Jester looked at me and smiled and said, “The Mountain makes the mind myopic. It sublimely surrounds sight, lecherously limits light, brazenly bellows blight. Walk wearily when wandering within its wake. The peak’s power is princely and pure, possibly. However humanity is half harrowing, half helpful. All abilities abuse as well as aid. It is, therefore, only a transfigurable tool. Ascend it for insight, mine it for might, or leap upon it for light. Unconscious use utterly usurps the faculties, of friend and of foe. Viewpoint, volition, or vagueness can vary veracity, villify the virtuous, vouch for the vile.” The jester turned to the mountain and held up a finger and a thumb. “Make the mightiest mountain a mote.” The Jester smiled and raised a smug eyebrow.

I have never understood the Jester. Were the world to be united on one side, then the Jester will stand on the other. For nothing more than a matter of principle. Is dissent for its own sake justifiable? Must all truth be eternally questioned? A fact is not beholden to interpretation. I had gazed at the steep slopes of the Mountain. I had marvelled at its enourmous height. I had witnessed the truth, and the truth had witnessed me. There is nothing greater. I would show the Jester the failings of doubt. “Look up you imbecile!”, I begged the Jester. “Gaze up and acknowledge that greatness.” The Jester smiled and said, “Indeed, I am an imbecile.” and returned to the performance. What does this fool know of anything? Nothing. The jester’s purpose is to perform. This was nothing more than just a performance. I would prove truth true.

The Mountain stood tall. All roads lead to it. And all roads come from it. I would walk the path up the Mountain. I would look down from its peak. And all of creation will gaze up to me as it’s better. Including the damned Jester. Determined, I made haste to the foot of the Mountain.

The size of the Mountain is immense, yet it grew as I approached it. I walked on, unfazed by its expanding slopes. The Mountain’s surface, once smooth and youthful from a distance, resolved itself into roughness. Grizzled with the tips of trees, gouged with deep creases that cut across jaggedly. But where is the path to its peak? I could not see how to climb the treacherous face of the Mountain. Darkness was descending, I had to find shelter. There was a single hut near the foot of the Mountain. Determined, I made haste to the hut.

Within was an hermit, seated at a fire, sipping from a cup. The hermit jerked up and stared suspiciously with deep brown eyes. It was as if those eyes gazed into my soul. “Who the hell are you?”, snapped the hermit with a voice that sounded like it belonged to a much younger person, yet it was filled with confidence and authority. “I am here to climb the Mountain”, I said with as much poise as I could muster. “Well, of course you are here to climb The Mountain. I want to know who you are”, croaked the Hermit. “It does not matter, I must climb to the top.” The Hermit looked at me curiously, “Why? Climbing The Mountain is no easy task. It might take ten years, more if you are not determined. Did you see how it grew as you approached it? That never stops. The Mountain keep grows beneath your feet even as you stand upon it. Why must you go to the peak?”. I was shocked! What new arrogance was this? “I do not have to explain myself to you, Hermit! Is it not enough that I want to do it?” I spat. Defeated, the Hermit sighed and said, “Very well, follow me.” And walked out of the hut. Determined, I made haste behind the Hermit.

“The Mountain is not something to be conquered, that is not possible,” said the Hermit, not caring whether I listened or not. “No one has been to the peak. It is unclear whether a peak even exists. There are many, perhaps innumerable, paths of The Mountain. Dense, winding, and interconnected. I once had a friend how was climbing up the northern face, and surprisingly ended up making a level path along the eastern ridge! It was most surpr—”, the Hermit droned on and on. the stream of information was never ending, but I’d had enough. “What do you mean there are innumerable paths? I see none.” Annoyed at being interrupted, the Hermit looked back and said, “Well of course you don’t see any paths. You must first climb the Stairs, only then will you be able to see the paths. Now shut up and listen!” The Hermit grasped my arm and thrust me forward. “Look there,” said the Hermit, pointing to side of the rising slopes. “Those are the endless Stairs. Only when you have climbed them all and carve a new step at the top, will you be able to scale the rest of The Mountain. You must first stand upon the work of all of those who came before you. Only then, will you see how to climb The Mountain. Not everyone is capable of doing this of course. But that is okay, there are some paths that lead away from the Stairs laterally. You may take those paths and be equally renowned. But the so-called peak is at the top, so those only interested in the top”, the disdain in the Hermit’s tone was palpable, “must go to the top of the Stairs”. I was confused, “What do you mean endless Stairs? if they are endless how am I supposed to go to the top?”. Now the Hermit now smiled and said, “They are endless because they grow as well, many have come before you and every single person that has climbed them has added a new step. Some have added several. In fact, some steps are being added as we speak!” This was strange, how would I be able to reach the peak if the stairs keep growing? Determined, I made haste to the stairs.