This is a little story that is supposed to be a kind of supporting band. Supporting bands can also be cover bands. So this is a cover story. It is not my story. An old fairy tale, well known in Germany and Czechia rewritten as a new story. As cyclists in the mountains, we love the story about the spirit of the mountains. The wood gnome. It's just a little fairy tale, no more, no less. Happy Easter !
“The wonder is that the characteristic efficacy to touch and inspire deep creative centers dwells in the smallest nursery fairy tale-as the flavor of the ocean is contained in a droplet or the whole mystery of life within the egg of a flea. For the symbols of mythology are not manufactured; they cannot be ordered, invented, or permanently suppressed. They are spontaneous productions of the psyche, and each bears within it, undamaged, the germ power of its source.”
(Joseph Campbell)
How *~cc~* gets to its Name Symbol
It's one of these wonderful summer days in the giant mountains. Emily and her friends are off with their gravel bikes to discover the mountain roads and trails. They want to find a wonderful place, a place where this little rider gang of free girls could celebrate Emilys bachelorette party. The happy fit riders found a place they had not suspected before. A stream rushed down in lively cascades and formed a clear pool of water between protective rocks before it impetuously continued its way into the depths. Around the basin grew the most beautiful mountain flowers and strong grass. They decided to hold the bachelorette party at this wonderfully peaceful spot in the mountains, with the mountain meadow full of colourful flowers in bloom and the scenic mountain stream invites for refreshing in its small pool. Emily senses a distinct feeling of wholeness, a superior force that seems to dwell in their discovered place. As if the spirit of the mountain spotted her, to invite her on an interesting adventure she will never forget.
So it was decided that Emily's father and her fiance Clayton would take care of the rest. Her father was the ranger here and the forest house was only 7,77km away. They decorated the location a little so that it looked a bit like a small festival venue. It is a 100% realistic story. There is no miracle magic in the real world. Everything has its cause and effect. In the real world, causality rules. There is no choice. There is no such thing as chance.
The next day, the girls set off again to their meadow and the stream in the forest to celebrate. The first part of their route took them out of the inhabited areas towards the foot of the mountain. Just before the gate of the forest, there was an interesting section of the route. The road first descended into the valley with gently winding curves, guaranteeing a rapid descent, then climbed steeply again, becoming steeper and steeper, reaching a higher point at the end of the section. Emily was smart enough to ride the descent in the slipstream behind Vivian's bike. Crossing the bottom of the valley, she felt an incredible energy inside her, pedalled all out, tore the steering wheel from side to side during the climb, it was more like a sprint, her thighs boiled, the chain crunched, the stubby tyres boomed their powerful contact with the asphalt into the air, the adrenaline shot through her body- the stronger Vivian had not expected this cunning attack. It is finished. Emily's bike computer said „QOM !!!“ at maximum heart rate, Vivian followed 3s later. Conquering a road bike segment with a gravel bike always puts a smile on her face. QOM means Queen of the Mountain. A virtual title awarded by a software that compares the GPS times of different riders on a certain route, a segment, whose results can be seen on a leaderboard and is meant to motivate other cyclists to ride for it.
"You won this time!" gasped Vivian, visibly straining, and added, "the big climbing segment to the pass is coming up, are you in?" "Not this time for sure," Emily replied, "I'll stay relaxed in zone 2 and want to cycle up the mountain on my own, have a little time for myself to think, I hope you all have fun, ride on !"
At this easier pace her mind is still free to think about all the things that are happening and going through her head at that moment. Her other friends were trying to ride as close to Vivian, who was by far the strongest rider, so they didn't stand a chance, but wanted to challenge themselves to see who would be 2nd. So Emily was to ride up the gravel path alone. She would have been closest to Vivian. Somehow she doesn't feel alone. It's that feeling she already felt the day before at the mountain stream, as if someone was with her, with every breath, every pedal stroke, every turn she takes - that someone accompanies her, protects her, shows her the way through the forest. The spirit of the forest itself. Not evil. Not good. You can not grasp it. But familiar in some way. This spirit must have been in her life since birth, or even earlier, she thought. The fine-grained gravel surface of the forest road led higher and higher into the Giant Mountains in numerous curves. Small streams followed the path for a short while, flowing under it, the fine gurgling replaced by the deep buzzing of bumblebees, small sections with magnificent views were followed by densely wooded areas with green slopes full of fragrant plants, here and there the pling plong of small stones chirping away from the tyres. In this moment of contemplation, of awareness of what is, in this moment for the moment, Emily feeled as if she is this gravel road, as if she has merged with the surroundings, the vibrations of the surface she sensed in her body, the buzzing of the bumblebees, the legs pedalling with effortless ease, all this is one and now, as a whole.
The friends waited for Emily at the end of the climb for only about five minutes. They rode off in a leisurely fashion to her meadow with the pool, which they didn't recognise. Emily's father and her fiancé Clayton from Wisconsin, these two men had indeed turned the beautiful meadow into a little garden paradise, set up tables and benches, provided food, built a grill and fire pit, and laid out towels by the pool. Clayton left his old home behind for Emily and found a job near the Giant Mountains. He works and lives in Ratibor. When the riding gang reached the place, not realising all the men had done for them, they were amazed - and felt a little guilty about sending the two men back to the forest house when it is so beautiful here.
They chatted, enjoyed sunbathing and had a wonderful lunch from the grill. The birds sang the songs of the wild forest while Emily wanted some time to herself again. She said that now was the time to take a private dip in that wonderful pool in the creek. She left the group of her friends, stepped down the steps to the stream and cautiously tested the water with a tip of her toe. It was bitterly cold. A real refreshment. Emily was tough. A mountain bath is a mountain bath - and if it's cold, it's cold, she thought. She had to overcome herself, did she really want to get married ? Now that everything was arranged, she wasn't so sure about that. Marry. Forever? Forever and ever... Light-footed, she put one foot on a flat stone in the water. The stone was very slippery, one could not guess. What will happen now is still in the realm of causality. Cause and effect. She slipped away. She lost her balance. And suddenly fell into the ice-cold mountain pool. This kind of thing happens every day. People go to a lake. Are not prepared. Jump into the cold water on a hot summer day. Vagus death. What's going to happen to Emily? When she slipped and went under in the water? She lost consciousness. Drowning would be normal now. Fortunately, this did not happen. The symbolism of sinking, of being swallowed up by the water, marks here the immersion into the world of the subconscious. The wild mountain stream carried her unconscious body downstream of the pool dangerously close to the waterfall that would soon plunge into the depths. Here, Emily's body now lay unconscious and by natural forces in the stable lateral position half in the water and half in the sun. She could breath well. The water gurgled past her and 2m later plunged thunderously into the abyss. Here she dreamt the dream she will never forget. Her mind found itself in a kind of wonderland. She rode her bicycle again. A magical colourful world, first underground with some tunnels. She was not alone. There was another cyclist in front of her. He seemed to pedal slower, turned around, waited for her right there. Hello Emily, you have now entered my realm. I am pleased to meet you. Let's go for a little ride. I'll show you all my many trails." The young friendly man, who looked peculiarly familiar to her, was wearing an intriguingly bright jersey. The underground path led out into the open through lava caves and dwarven machineries and great archways. As promised, the amiable companion tirelessly showed her all his wonderful colourful places. Time passed and Emily also wondered about her tirelessness. The two cycled across swamps and long forgotten ruins, up and down the highest mountains. How long had she been cycling here with this magical spirit? The familiar stranger became a kind of friend. She seemed to have almost forgotten the real world outside. The friend's jersey of golden light glowed more and more brightly. Then the friend turned to Emily: I haven't shown you a certain place yet. So they rode to a meadow with a stream and a pool. Instead of the rough rocks, she saw artfully crafted walls of rose-coloured marble that joined together temple-like in height, instead of the lawn, splendid sofas with ornate golden backs, and the basin of the fountain was delicately laid out. A light steam gushed from the clear, sparkling water, a sign that one of those cherished warm fountains had formed.
The two sat down and Emily asked, "What does the *~cc~* on your golden jersey stand for ? Carbon Copy? Cross Country? Cycling Club? Cyclocross? Or is that your name? And the spirit promptly answered her: " See, you see a C, you see the letter C, two Cs in a row, what if it's not a letter? It is a symbol. The C is perceived as a semicircle, a hemisphere, two hemispheres; together they make a whole. The circle with a dot in the middle as a symbol for the self. The dot as a knot, the untangled knot, what remains are the untangled strands, this ~ recognized as some kind of a serpent. It is a symbol. I am Nameless. Uncatchable. Pathless. For you I am your divine counterpart, or Animus the wise.“
"Inspiring," Emily replied, "I have such a faint feeling in my stomach." "Have some of these turnips here," the spirit responded kindly, handing her wonderful juicy turnips. You're not going to send me out to count all the turnips in this fantasy world, are you? I'm not falling for those old tricks any more. You are so fearless. This is why we could have this wonderful conversation. With more fear in you and this would have been a different story. You can perceive the turnips as a symbol for earth-bound live. They are vital objects. Like in real life, even your mother and father, your friends and your friend are just objects to you- and you for yourself as perceiving subject, your own body is just an immediate object to you. The otherness of golden light your wise mate, clearly objectless in the state of pure contemplation and... finally... when it is finished, you´ll lay the captured flame in my hands for the reunion of lights of lights to the one light. But this is not the time. I will send a thunderstorm. The thunder will wake you up. Let's walk together the last steps of this dream to the pool where you have been fallen in."
They walked the last few steps down to the pool together and Emily discovered her body lying half in the river and half on the rocks. She went to her body, knelt down and saw her still unconscious (GCS 3?) and breathing. "Always two there are ," the spirit said, and with that a terribly loud thunder boomed through the forest hills. Emily woke up, one part of her body cold as ice, the other hot as a fried egg. Slowly and still somewhat disoriented, she stood up- what was she experiencing? Again a loud thunder. She carefully waded the 20m up the stream to the pool and back to the mountain meadow. What luck. Her friends were still there. How long had she been unconscious? Then she heard Vivian exclaim indignantly, "Clayton, what are you doing here, how much of a bachelorette party didn't you understand ?" Clayton replied: "I was worried, had a bad feeling, and this new unexpected weather situation, I had to see if everything was alright.“ "It's OK Vivian," said Emily, "I'm glad he's here, how long was I out for?" "You've only been away for a quarter of an hour, you never ask when you're doing your thing for hours, are you alright Emily? "Vivian asked. "Yes," said Emily, "let's ride to the forester's house, I think it's about to get very uncomfortable here, a real thundershower is coming."
And so Clayton and Emily cycled ahead, followed by their girlfriends. The storm came closer and closer. The descent to the forester's lodge was rapid. And when Emily saw Clayton cycling ahead of her, she remembered the spirit, thought she recognised in Clayton the spirit of her dream, and was very much looking forward to her wedding.
The happy ending of the fairy tale, the myth, and the divine comedy of the soul, is to be read, not as a contradiction, but as a transcendence of the universal tragedy of man. The objective world remains what it was, but, because of a shift of emphasis within the subject, is beheld as though transformed. Where formerly life and death contended, now enduring being is made manifest-as indifferent to the accidents of time as water boiling in a pot is to the destiny of a bubble, or as the cosmos to the appearance and disappearance of a galaxy of stars.
(Joseph Campbell)