The Mountains are Calling Me

In the Altai Mountains, Bayan-Ulgii, Mongolia
I don't know why, these past 2 weeks have been filled with so much emotional thinking, which translated to a compulsion to create content.

The mountains. There is a felt heartache as I look at pictures of them. I long to be in the mountains again. Why though, I was asking myself. I am a city girl who failed her physical fitness test because she lacked the stamina to complete the 2.4km run. But the mountains, they stir in me a sense of quiet, almost-sad joy and a feeling of connectedness. In the mountains, I find that I rather be alone or not talk. There is a sense of theophany perhaps.

Shepherding the yaks


In my second time in Mongolia, I hiked through the forest of trees and settled on a plateau. There are no photos of the mountains I saw because I had intentionally left my handphone behind. I sat there, alone, for maybe a hour. Just singing hymns, gazing out at the mountains and letting my heart be filled. So so thankful that my eyes have seen these Lord. This is also a form of worship, just being there with His bees and wildflowers, and spying the cows meandering across the plains. O my God, my heart longs for this sight again.

The next best thing was spying Ganaa (pronounced Kanak) hanging around the fringe of where the action was. After I went down, I went to find him and he showed me a horse with her foal amongst the marshes. It was absolutely beautiful, that moment, when I allowed myself to be led by him and followed his instructions to not break the tranquility. Then, he was still new to FCS and didn't really fit in, and I was very very happy that I had that moment with him.

I camped outside this ger for some time because the children inside were peeping out and coming in and out
I guess one other reason why the mountains hold so much meaning for me is that they are often the home of close-knit communities (I wanted to say tribal but that's not really the point). I am drawn to communities, and these are often found in weathered places, like the mountains, the unsanitised areas of cities, but thankfully also in the everyday and the mundane. The Hong Kong Nepalese, the Kazakhs in Bayan-Ulgii, the Malay community, in my 大姑丈's huge extended family.

But I feel assured that I can say, I don't feel that gnawing need to get away, which was what I felt before leaving for exchange to Hong Kong. I have grown, and it is the work of the Spirit. The mountains speak of You, Father and El Shaddai.

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