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45 pages 1 hour read

Brianna Wiest

The Mountain Is You: Transforming Self-Sabotage Into Self-Mastery

Nonfiction | Book | Adult | Published in 2020

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Themes

Mythological Frameworks

The Mountain Is You is an exploration of personal transformation that taps into themes that have been foundational to human stories and myths for centuries. The book promotes a path to personal freedom and self-discovery, guiding readers through the steps of confronting their challenges, letting go of their old selves, and taking charge of their destiny. These steps are tied together by overarching themes of personal growth, spiritual transcendence, and the impact of individual choices on both personal and collective well-being.

In the Introduction, Wiest states, “Your mountain is the block between you and the life you want to live. Facing it is also the only path to your freedom and becoming” (8), presenting a metaphor/retelling of the mythic hero’s journey, as described by Joseph Campbell. Wiest’s narrative captures the essence of the hero’s journey, where the individual must face challenges, endure trials, and undergo a transformation to bring renewal not just to oneself but, ideally, to the community as well. This mountain symbolizes challenges, fears, and obstacles that hinder the pursuit of a fulfilling life. The act of facing this metaphorical mountain corresponds to the initial step of the hero’s journey: the call to adventure. It signifies the protagonist’s decision to embark on a transformative journey.

In Wiest’s book, confronting the mountain is a path to freedom and a gateway to becoming one’s authentic self. The book stresses the resulting personal growth, evolution, and the transformation of consciousness—common themes in myths. Thus, the mountain is an archetypal symbol representing both the challenge and the transformative potential inherent in life’s journey. Archetypes, as conceived of by Carl Jung, are universal symbols or motifs that reside in the collective unconscious, shared across cultures and epochs. Mountains often appear in myths and religious texts as places of revelation or transformation, such as Mount Sinai in Judeo-Christian tradition or Mount Meru in Hindu and Buddhist cosmology.

To achieve transformation, “[y]ou must release your old self into the fire of your vision” (8). Shedding one’s old identity and attachments is closely related to other tropes of the hero’s journey: the abyss and transformation stages. Just as the hero faces a symbolic death and rebirth, individuals are urged to mourn the loss of their past selves and embrace the potential for radical change––as expressed through concepts such as “positive disintegration,” which echoes shamanic hero narratives. Releasing the old self involves letting go of rigid beliefs and ego-based identifications, paving the way for a more open and empathetic perspective. The passage’s fire metaphor resonates with ideas of purification via a crucible of renewal, resonating with metaphysical principles inherent in shamanic hero narratives. The notion of facing one’s mountain is also aligned with a different socio-mythic framework: Jung’s concept of confronting the shadow. The shadow, in Jungian psychology, represents the unacknowledged or rejected aspects of oneself. Encountering the mountain, or shadow, is thus but an invitation to delve into one’s unconscious to integrate these fragmented parts of the self. The idea of releasing the “old self into the fire of your vision” resonates deeply with alchemical symbolism (8), which Jung often used as a metaphor for the process of individuation, the lifelong journey of becoming one’s authentic self.

The book’s idea that “[y]ou must claim it. You must create it” underscores the importance of personal agency in the transformational journey (238). The mountain is “you,” but you are interconnected with everything else. This interdependence recalls the end of the hero’s journey: the return and integration stage, where the hero brings back newfound wisdom for benefit the community. Wiest stresses that personal transformation is not a solipsistic quest for self-knowledge, but one that creates a ripple effect on the collective. Just as myth can shape cultural perspectives, personal transformation has the potential to influence collective action. The thrust of “You must claim it. You must create it” evokes Jung’s notion of active imagination (238), where individuals consciously engage with symbols, dreams, or inner conflicts to facilitate psychological transformation. In Jungian terms, the heroic return phase comes with the potential to transform the wisdom of the collective unconscious through archetypal insight. Ultimately, the book highlights the interconnectedness of individual and collective transformation—the idea that changing oneself is a vital step toward changing the world.

Connections to Yogacara Buddhism

As noted in the previous theme, The Mountain Is You details a transformative journey from self-sabotage to self-mastery. A notable undercurrent that permeates this journey is themes of Yogacara Buddhism, a sub-school within the broader Mahayana tradition. This ancient Buddhist philosophy offers insights into the nuances of reality, consciousness, and selfhood. An examination of the shared principles between this philosophy and the ideas presented in the work serves to deepen the understanding of the complex interplay between personal transformation and the architecture of the self.

One of the most prominent overlaps between the book and Yogacara Buddhism is the emphasis on the mind’s role in mediating reality. Yogacara philosophy doesn’t necessarily deny the existence of an external world but emphasizes that our experience and understanding of it are framed by our consciousness. This view asserts that while external phenomena might exist independently of our mind, what we experience is a reality shaped by our mental formations, perceptions, and past imprints. Yogacara introduces the concept of alayavijnana, or “storehouse consciousness”—a repository for all past experiences and karmic imprints. This concept complements the book’s notion that self-sabotage often springs from past experiences and learned behaviors.

Yogacara’s foundational principles are echoed in Wiest’s central contention that “[i]t is not the mountain that you must master, but yourself” (10). The mountain reflects one’s inner psychological landscape. Here, the concept of trisvabhava, or the “three natures,” from Yogacara comes into play. The book’s emphasis on overcoming self-imposed limitations can be seen as an effort to move beyond the imagined nature of reality to reach a more absolute understanding, where challenges are not just external hurdles but projections of inner conflicts. The problems one faces externally are, in essence, manifestations of one’s own consciousness, mirroring Yogacara’s assertion that what appears to be out there is deeply entwined with what is inside the self.

Yogacara Buddhism places enormous emphasis on personal mastery through reshaping one’s inner world to influence external circumstances. It encourages introspection as a pathway to transforming consciousness. The book resonates with this principle by inviting individuals to embark on a similar transformative journey. Whether it is managing emotions through non-attachment, emphasizing inner peace over fleeting happiness, or breaking the cycle of negative thinking, the book’s recommendations align well with Yogacara’s focus on the transformative potential of a well-examined internal life.

Another parallel lies in the Mahayana concept of shunyata, or “emptiness,” which elucidates concepts of personal responsibility. Emptiness in Mahayana Buddhism expresses the idea that all phenomena lack inherent existence and are instead dependent on various conditions to manifest as they do. This interconnectedness implies a level of fluidity and malleability in how things appear, including the self. This emptiness thus indicates potentiality. By understanding the empty nature of phenomena, one is empowered to see the impermanent and interdependent nature of one’s problems or “mountains.”

If our “mountains” are not permanent, then we possess the power to alter them through our actions, decisions, and mindset. Similarly, if our selves are not fixed but dependent on various conditions and constantly in a state of transformation, then self-transformation becomes an integral part of the human experience. This universal changeability also means that suffering is not an inherent or eternal aspect of the self. This awareness can result in radical freedom: One’s current state of suffering isn’t a life sentence but a condition based on specific circumstances that can be transformed. Liberation in Buddhism is often understood as freedom from ignorance, desire, and aversion, all of which are seen as sources of suffering. By understanding that the self is subject to change, one can work toward disentangling from these root causes of suffering. Such disentanglement allows for a more direct experience of reality, closer to the state of enlightenment.

The book’s focus on taking “radical and complete responsibility for [one’s] life” is aligned with this concept (237). Recognizing the transformable nature of problems and self means acknowledging one’s role in shaping these phenomena, just as the Mahayana concept of emptiness teaches that individuals are both the creators and the liberators of challenges. Mountains are not merely obstacles but are opportunities for growth and transformation. As we alter our internal landscapes, so do our mountains transform, reflecting our inner changes. Emptiness, then, provides a metaphysical foundation for Wiest’s practical advice, adding a layer of spirituality to the journey from self-sabotage to self-mastery.

The Quest for Inner Peace

Through a blend of philosophical quotes, experiential wisdom, and narrative examples, Wiest argues that inner peace is a more sustainable and enriching goal than fleeting happiness. By thus foregrounding the pursuit of inner peace, the book aligns itself with a countercultural or even anti-establishment viewpoint, challenging the status quo by advocating for a form of well-being that cannot be commodified. The perspective can also be linked to existentialism, a philosophical movement that emphasizes individual existence, freedom, and choice.

Wiest proposes that inner peace is attainable; people are simply uninformed on how to reach it: “Why can’t people find their inner peace easily? The answer is that they can; most people just aren’t instructed on how to” (215). This assertion interrogates the pervasive societal notion that tranquility is elusive or complicated, thereby challenging the mystification of inner peace. The path to inner peace is often obstructed by internal misunderstandings and fears, especially those rooted in the inner child. This metaphorical child represents the most innocent and pure part of oneself that remains constant throughout life. Just as it is a parent’s responsibility to guide and comfort a scared or upset child, individuals must also learn to parent their inner children to achieve inner peace.

The book posits the notion of the inner child as a psychological reality, intimately connected to our unconscious fears and behaviors. It asserts that most people struggle with their emotional states because they are afraid to confront their inner child, who throws tantrums and generates anxiety. The solution is to nurture and comfort this internal aspect, thereby setting the stage for a more harmonious mental state. The concept of the inner child evokes theories from developmental psychology, suggesting that much of our adult behavior can be understood as a manifestation of unresolved issues from our childhood. This idea aligns with psychodynamic theories, which delve into the unconscious mind and early developmental stages to explain human behavior.

The book also critiques the idea that the search for happiness or peace can be external, criticizing a consumerist society that perpetually seeks solutions to existential problems through the acquisition of wealth, relationships, or even happiness itself. The text argues that true peace comes from being present and connected to oneself and that most obstacles to this peace are self-imposed. Specifically, it identifies resistance as a key factor in perpetuating internal conflict, explaining that resistance arises when there is an unwillingness to accept feelings, people, or events as they are. Positioning inner peace as a form of radical acceptance reflects Eastern philosophy and mindfulness traditions, challenging the Western focus on continual progress, growth, and change as markers of a life well lived.

Wiest also draws on the philosophy of existentialism, notably through the inclusion of a quote by Albert Camus: “In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer” (211). This quote reflects the resilience of the human spirit, suggesting that inner peace is a resource that can be tapped into, regardless of external circumstances. It emphasizes that even in times of external turmoil (“winter”), one can find a deep-seated contentment (“an invincible summer”) within oneself. This contrasts a deep-seated constancy with the temporary highs and lows associated with happiness. Inner peace thus becomes something to tap into, a stable core that exists regardless of external conditions.

The book complicates the definition of happiness: “Happiness is an active pursuit as much as it is a passive one” (236). This dichotomy questions the oversimplified views of happiness often peddled by self-help literature and social media, such as the relentless “hustle culture” that equates material success with well-being, toxic and thus blinkered positivity, and the checklist approach that assumes happiness can be formulaically achieved. These prevalent narratives divert attention away from a more sustainable and nuanced pursuit of inner peace, reducing it to superficial quick fixes. Instead, the book proposes a more balanced approach, advocating for a life that allows the “mundanity of everyday moments” to be as cherished as the grandiose ones (236). This sentiment correlates with mindfulness and the ability to find contentment in the present, arguably the very essence of inner peace.

The book distinguishes between happiness and inner peace: “Happy people aren’t joyful all the time, and this is an important distinction to make. In fact, genuinely happy people are more at peace than they are ecstatic about everything they experience” (234). Chasing perpetual happiness is a futile misunderstanding of the nature of enduring contentment. Genuine happiness is not a continuous state of ecstasy; rather, it is the calm that comes with a balanced emotional state. This idea resonates with New Age spirituality and positive psychology, albeit with a skeptical eye that interrogates the way these have been watered down when applied to popular notions about well-being. The book contributes to a literary landscape increasingly focused on spiritual self-discovery and mental well-being, raising existential questions that demand personal and collective introspection.

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