by Maray Sutti Picq
I am used to seeing mountains in white.
Snow covering everything.
Sharp lines.
Cold light.
Stillness.
And then, one day,
I saw them in green.
Soft.
Alive.
Almost unfamiliar.
The same mountains.
But something had changed.
Of course, there is a simple explanation.
Seasons shift.
Snow melts.
Grass grows.
Light changes.
Nature moves in cycles,
quietly, continuously
But what stayed with me
was not the explanation.
It was the feeling.
How something so solid,
so permanent,
could appear so different.
In yoga,
we begin to notice this too.
The body changes.
Sensations come and go.
What feels open one day
feels resistant the next.
Nothing stays the same.
We often look for stability
in things that are, by nature,
in movement.
We want the body to feel a certain way.
We want the mind to stay calm.
We want life to remain predictable.
But everything is already changing.
Arthur Schopenhauer wrote that the world we experience
is not the world itself,
but a representation of it.
What we see
is shaped by conditions.
Light.
Time.
Position.
Perception.
The mountains did not become something else.
They revealed another aspect of themselves.
And maybe this is true for everything.
Impermanence is not something to fix.
It is something To observe
without resisting.
To experience
without needing it to last.
The mountains will turn white again.
And then green.
And then something in between.
They remain.
And yet,
they never stay the same.