The Mountain Spirits and the Stone Mortars

The Mountain Spirits and the Stone Mortars

Beside a great town in Laos rose a range of mountains. In daylight, their slopes looked blue in the distance. In the evening, their peaks disappeared into mist. People said that mountain spirits lived high among the rocks. Usually, the spirits did not interfere in the business of the town, and the townspeople did not visit the spirits without a reason. Everyone was perfectly satisfied with this arrangement. Then one morning, a strange rumbling sounded on the main road. Rumble! Rumble! Rumble! “What is that?” asked the rice seller, looking out of his shop. “Perhaps thunder,” said a woman carrying vegetables. “What thunder comes under a clear sky?” wondered the old craftsman. The noise grew nearer. Then the mountain spirits appeared. They were rolling enormous stone mortars in front of them. The mortars were so large that one could have hidden a whole sack of rice inside each one. Their heavy stone pestles looked as though they had been made for pounding rocks rather than grain. “Good morning!” said the spirits. “Good morning,” the townspeople replied carefully. “We have brought you excellent mortars.” The people walked around the stone bowls, looking at them from every side. “They are very… large,” someone finally said. “That is exactly why they are excellent!” said the spirits proudly. “And very heavy,” added someone else. “Stone must be heavy,” said a spirit. “Otherwise, what kind of stone would it be?” The people looked at one another. At last, the town elder asked, “What would you like in exchange for these mortars?” The spirits named their price. The square became silent. Even the chickens stopped clucking. “Perhaps we did not hear correctly,” said the rice seller. The spirits repeated the price. Now everyone spoke at once. “For that much, we could buy many ordinary mortars!” “We do not need ones this enormous!” “Where would we put them?” “Who could even use them?” The elder raised his hand. “Honored spirits, please do not be offended. Your mortars are strong, and the stone is beautiful. But they are too large for our rice, and the price is too high. We cannot buy them.” The spirits frowned. They had pushed the stone mortars all the way down from the mountain. They had stopped to rest, wiped their brows, and argued about who had to push the largest one. “So you will not take them?” asked one spirit. “We will not,” said the people. “Then take them back up the mountain.” The townspeople looked at the mortars. Then they looked at the mountain. Then they looked at the mortars again. The nearest bowl was so heavy that four strong people could move it only the width of a hand. “Perhaps you could take them back yourselves?” suggested the old craftsman. “We already brought them down,” said the spirits. “Now it is your turn.” “But we did not ask for them!” “And we are tired!” A great argument began. The spirits said it was unfair to make them drag the stones uphill a second time. The townspeople said it was unfair to make someone buy a thing just because it had already been delivered. They argued for a long time. The sun rose high, then began to sink again, and the mortars still stood in the middle of the road. At last, a clever woman said, “Listen. If we pay you a little less than you ask, and the mortars stay here, will the argument be over?” The spirits whispered together. The townspeople whispered too. The price still seemed high. But no one wanted to drag the stone giants up the steep road. At last, they made a bargain. The spirits accepted the payment and went cheerfully back into the mountains. The mortars remained in town. One stood by the road. Another stood near the market. A third stood beside the houses. Years passed. People grew used to the stone mortars the way people grow used to an old tree or a great boulder. Whenever a traveler came to town, they stopped and asked, “Why do you have such enormous mortars?” Someone local would smile. “That is a long story.” “And the short version?” “Once, mountain spirits wanted very much to sell something, and our town did not want very much to buy it.” The traveler would laugh. “Who won?” The townspeople looked at the mortar. “That is a difficult question. The spirits received money. We did not have to haul stone up the mountain. And the mortars stayed here forever.” Then they always added, “But now we have a story to tell every new visitor.” And indeed, the great stone mortars remained where they had been left. If anyone doubted that spirits had brought them, the townspeople pointed to the heavy stone and said, “Think about it. Who else could have rolled such a giant thing all the way down from the top of a mountain?”

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨