(Originally published in Common Place Quarterley's "Character(s) To Live By"column)

I’m writing this article in the middle of the coronavirus quarantine, a looming house move (with piles of unfinished boxes surrounding me), many questions about the future, and a continuous barrage of narratives that threaten to bring a war to Mansoul (or Man’s Soul, Charlotte Mason’s uses this term from Bunyan’s book Holy War). Narratives that caused my daughter to tell me, “Steel yourself mom”, when I needed to do some grocery shopping recently. That same phrase had caught my attention the day before, and my daughters’ remark gave me pause for thought: steel yourself.
I steel myself when I do household chores, run errands and finish projects. But, how do I steel myself against narratives that are threatening to strangle the lush forests and wildflowers on the 'Delectable Mountain' of Mansoul (Vol.4, p. 3)? Stories that will strip it of its fresh mountain air and scenic views: leaving a mountain of doom in their aftermath.
In Grace Lin’s Chinese folktale, Where the Mountain Meets the Moon, I met Minli and her parents, Ma and Ba. They lived under “a black mountain that cut into the sky like a jagged piece of rough metal. The villagers called it Fruitless Mountain because nothing grew on it and birds and animals did not rest there.” Minli’s appearance was a stark contrast to the village she came from: her eyes shone with eager anticipation of adventure and her smile frequently flashed across her face. On the other hand, Ma sighed and frowned a great deal, discontent with her life under the Fruitless Mountain. Ba was also grey and weary with work, but his eyes would “sparkle like raindrops in the sun whenever he began to tell a story”. Stories that, “kept Minli from becoming dull and brown like the rest of the village.” Stories that filled her imagination with the desire to make Fruitless Mountain bloom again. I’ll leave you to discover the chronicles of her adventures.
I want to follow Ma’s journey, though. “She never quite approved of Ba’s stories, as she felt that they made Minli impractical and caused her to daydream.” Unlike Minli, Ma could only see the stark realities of Fruitless Mountain and her discontentment, bitterness and resentment “grew like weeds—uncontrollable and tangling.” These weeds killed any seeds of gratitude and joy. Eventually, she saw the deceits of her heart and was able to name the lies that were causing such destruction. Would she continue to allow the weeds of ingratitude to embitter her or would she begin to sow seeds of thankfulness and hope?
Charlotte Mason says that the sole function of the will is to choose between ideas that present themselves to us. In the same way that it is a king’s duty to reign over his kingdom, every man has a duty to self-govern: to use his will to control Mansoul (kingdom of the inner man) towards a good purpose.
So today, I choose to use this sacred gift of free will: Mansoul will rejoice in the face of the circumstances; keep her heart with all diligence; pray without ceasing and give thanks in everything. (Proverbs 4:23 and 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18).
I stand before 'Delectable Mountain' and close my Ear-Gate to the narratives of fear and confusion. I will pull out the weeds that have been threatening to destroy the riches of Mansoul, and instead, I will cultivate gardens of goodness, truth and beauty. And those questions that spill over “like overflowing water”? I choose to leave them unanswered, and I steel myself with the shield of faith in my sovereign Lord — for he works all things together for good. (Romans 8:28)
I will be like Ba whose stories enabled him, Minli and those around them, to see that everything is alive: the fish that talk; the sun that bursts “into multicoloured flames on the horizon”; the ground I’m walking on; the trees that are waving their arms in praise; the stars above that fill “the sky like spilled salt on dried seaweed” and the moonlight that washes “over everything like a rich bath of gold and silver”.
He has prepared a table for me and mine; we will sit down to the feast and savour it in the presence of the enemy. On our ‘Delectable Mountains,’ we will breathe alpine air, gather the lovely wildflowers, read stories and poetry, sing songs, and fill the fair lands of our Mansouls, with joy, hope and peace.
[Unless otherwise stated, all quotations are from Where the Mountain Meets the Moon.]
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