Avalanche

"Only your grip knowing your heart" 

In early eighteenth century, in a small village located about 15 kilometers from the hip of Switzerland Alps (mountain) there lived a man named Picasso. He was a widower who obliged to raise his only daughter and help the villagers though he had never been elected as a chief of the village because other people thought he always came up with contradict ideas against the elder chief village.  

As the village always threatened by the harsh weather, the villagers could only hunt and grow crops that were resistant to the freezing temperature to keep the whole village from starvation when winter arrived. 

One day, many young people in the whole village were epidemic caused by the spread of a rare disease. Many of them had died very young because there was neither solution nor doctor. One by one had gone, without any solutions, but only drops of tears falling down from those parents whose children had lost their lives.

Three days after the incident, after knowing the new about the outbreak of the disease a man who lived near the village visited them. He told the villagers that many people in his village had some experience in dealing with this kind of fatal disease, too. “Only things that can rescue these youths from death are the magical herbs. They will be able to bring them back to life, but you have to face the trade off, because in order to collect these herbs, you have to climb to the peak of the frozen Alps. Remember, if you don’t risk your life, you’ll have to watch the others die,” he said to the villagers before his departure.


It was an extremely dangerous task to reach the mountain’s top because, in this season, people always gone and never came back due to the unexpected avalanche. Many died had left unseen in their attempt. The snow was thick, easy to slip, and fell down on the risk takers as an unexpected landslide that buried them deep down under the earth surface.


No one in the village dared to take risk, including the village chief, but Picasso knew the only solution and had a great desire to save the whole villagers was to take the journey that might scarifice his life, though his daughter did not affect by this disease. He wanted to save the whole village from the continuous death.  

He needed a man to accompany him in collecting enough amounts of herbs to cure people. Then, he asked his close friend, Shiro, whose son was on the verge of taking his breath. Shiro hesitated because he knew that the journey would be risky. Eventually, he agreed with Picasso’s proposal as he could not bear to look at his dying son and sit without doing anything about it.

Early the next day, they are both began their journey. Picasso looked determined as he wished to bring to light back to whole village. In contrast, Shiro was trembled and out of control. He showed the feeling of discomfort and frighten as he usually heard that people had never turned back when they climbed the mountain in this season. 


They walked about for almost two days to cover about 15 miles before they reached the hip of the mountain. Then, they climbed a steep slope, about one and a half kilometer higher from the ground to reach the place where the magical herbs grew. The wind blew so strong and the snow moved and flew as the white rain raging in the atmosphere. They were surrounded by the white and fuzzy snow and could hardly see each other. The journey was rough and the weather was dreadfully cold that could make them become a solid steel at any seconds, so they some time sip some drops of vodka to keep their bodies warm. 

Fourteen hours had passed, they eventually arrived at the destination where they could see the herbs, but it seemed impossible as the top of the mountain was too steep to climb.

The magical herbs grew only at the peak of the steep mountain. It was difficult to reach. However, with the will power, Picasso had finally been able to pick and throw them down  to Shiro by climbing onto the steep rock using a rope and sharp hammer that could prevent him from falling down. Though Picasso’s face and lips had now been pale, but his spirits were high as he was delighted. After collecting enough magical herbs, he went down wearing a big smile one his face. They both, Picasso and Shiro, both felt as if they were standing under the warm sunlight with a sack of the magical herbs. 

With the joy of their achievement, they had not lingered, as they had to run back home without any hesitations. 

“We finally did it, Shiro! We have saved people’s lives. One thing that I want to tell you is that we were born and we will die, but between the two, in the period of our live lifetime, there are lots things for us to do, to struggle, and to ignite a light. Life is like a drama, and we are a protagonist, so don’t be scared by the fear of failure and the fear that might make your life meaningless, like dust that moves without any destination. You should follow your heart, not your brain,” wearing a big smile on his face and hold the sack on his shoulder, Picasso talked to Shiro and they both had forgotten that there might be a danger in this journey.

“I don’t like the risky task like this. Though it is meaningful to you, but, to me, I was born and raised to fear the nature. I live under the mercy of nature. I would like to let my life goes as it is. It is simple and safe. Most importantly, everybody does the same things as me. Thus, I feel that I am not a stranger to my people and I am not different from them. So we all live and let live,” Shiro replied. 

After many hours walking down from the place where they collected the herbs, they had almost arrived at the hip of the Alps. While Shiro was talking joyfully as he expected to bring a new life to his son, suddenly they heard the sound moving from the top of the mountain as if the sound of the one-side-invading enemy rushing loudly toward both of them. They turned back and saw the pile of snow coming down toward them like a tsunami. Shiro then realized that it was an avalanche. He was frozen and stood still. At that moment, Picasso shouted “run, Shiro!”, but Shiro did not move as he was frightened and did not know what he would manage to do.  Picasso frighteningly ran very fast gripping the sack tightly in his hand and descended to the lower ground. However, it was inescapable. Both of them disappeared. A few minutes later, the quiet sound had revisited, there was nothing left beside the white snow and trees growing on the freezing mountain.  

The villagers had waited for a few days for their return as the many of them were seriously ill, but there was no sign of their return. At least one person died per day, so they could not wait any longer. Then, a dozen of the middle-age men along with Picasso’s daughter whose name Lily decided to look for them. When they arrived at the place where incident took place, they saw only a frozen-right arm gripping a folded paper appeared from the snow ground. 

They immediately removed the body from the ground. 

“It is Picasso!” one of the men shouted with a terrified voice.

They took out the body from the ground. It was Picasso. The sack was full of magical herbs holding on his left hand. He was frozen as a stone, looking pale as a pearl, and his eyes were light green as a shining gem. Though his heart had now stopped beating with his closing eyes, he still looked brave and determined, and gripped the folded paper in his right palm. 

The men dug everywhere around the place where they found Picasso. About ten meters distance from Picasso, some of the men found the body of Shiro who buried down about four meters under the snow. His eyes remained open though his body became a solid like an unbreakable pillar, his eyes shown the sign of regretful and disappointment. Then, the men in the village put Shiro and Picasso next to each other with the sack of containing the magical herbs and the folded paper in Picasso’s hand. 
As tear rolling down from Lily’s eyes, she unfolded the letter and started to read as it wrote:

“Lily, my lovely only daughter, I know that if you have a chance to unfold this letter, I might have already been passed away to heaven. I know you are crying now, but every drop of tear falling down from your eyes is not wasted. It means that you appreciate me as a hero.

Don’t be regretful, my darling. You should be proud of me because life is about struggle. Only this struggling that makes life more interesting. This time I had done something right for the villagers. It is my happiness and joy that I have been longed before the end of my life. Sooner or later everybody dies because we cannot escape from the law of nature. It is the law of birth and death. People will all die one day. But before I die, I have a dream. It is the dream that I can risk my life for the sake of other people.

I remember when I was young. My grandfather told me that “if you want to live in happiness, live for others,” this phrase has always remained in my head. And I swore to myself that, at least, I could do something before I become dust and smoke that melt away.

Life is interdependent. We cannot live alone and enjoy your life, so we have to sacrifice ourselves to bring the positive impact to whole society. Yet, what we have done might be seen as disgraceful and improper to some eyes; despite we believe they are beneficial to us and to the whole society.

Some people might have seen people like me as stupid risk-taker, out-of-the-box, or uninteresting person. However, I don’t allow the words that flow from their mouths hinder my commitment and conviction. Don’t be afraid to do something that you really believe in. Don’t let external judgments glue both of your legs. You should believe in everything that you do that it must bring benefits to the next generation. 

New generations learn mistakes from the older ones. And when they want to change those mistakes, people who used to follow the pattern passing by the older one will recognize the changers as a rebel or disgraceful person. But for those who have introduced something new, always push the society to the next level. First, some people blame it, and then they learn to adapt with it. Then, they regard this change as normal. When another generation emerges, the older one again always starts to complaint. We cannot escape this because it is the universal truth that everything is impermanence. 

I know that you really hurt at the moment, but please remember my words and live the life you believe that is right for you. Life is impermanence, so don’t be afraid the fear of failure.  

I have to say final goodbye to you right now, darling! Please, remember that. I have passed away without any regrets though I have left you alone. But you are not alone at all; you still have you lovely aunt who you can really trust and who will take care of you.” Lily unfolded the letter and wiping her tear from her eyes.

The men from the village took both bodies and the sack of magical herbs to the village as Lily followed them with her heart full of grief and she could still hear the echo of her father’s sound in her head. They buried Picasso next to his wife grave while Shiro was buried on the other part of the churchyard. All people in the village and priests prayed and held the funeral ceremony in the church as they have been done for many centuries.

A week later, those young people in the village, who were epidemic by the disease, had been cured and returned to live in an ordinary life as they once used to and accustom with.