The Mountain of Human Sorrows"

Man is never happy in any state. Human nature, restless by design, always looks for something else—something beyond reach. Socrates, the philosopher, once shared a profound thought:

> If all the troubles of the world were gathered in one place and then distributed equally among everyone, those who now consider themselves unfortunate would find this distribution a blessing compared to their original troubles.

Another philosopher went even further, saying:

> If we could exchange our troubles with each other, everyone would ultimately choose to keep their original burdens.

These sayings hide a deep truth: the weight of sorrow is not in the sorrow itself but in how we bear it.

Expanding on these two ideas, I sat one day, tired of the so-called carefree life, and sleep overcame me. In my dream, I saw an extraordinary vision.

An announcement had been made from the Court of the Sultan of the Heavens: all the people of the world should bring their sorrows, pains, and hardships and pile them up in one place. For this purpose, a field larger than imagination itself was prepared, and people began to arrive from every direction.

I stood in the middle, watching in awe. One after another, they came, casting down their burdens, yet each burden grew larger as it fell. Soon, a towering mountain of grief rose higher than the clouds.

Amid the crowd, I saw a strange figure—thin, restless, quick as wind. He carried a mirror that magnified every reflection. His robe was embroidered with demons and genies, swaying to reveal countless illusions. His name was Illusion. It was he who tied up each burden and threw it onto the growing heap.

At that moment, I realized: Illusion does not create sorrow, but it multiplies its weight. It makes a small shadow appear as a mountain, a moment’s pain appear eternal.

I watched my fellow human beings, my brothers and sisters, with hearts heavy in pity. Some came with poverty, some with sickness, some with heartbreak. A countless crowd of lovers arrived with sighs and laments heavier than iron. They groaned and wept but strangely could not throw away their burdens; instead, they turned back carrying the same grief they had brought.

This struck me deeply: Some burdens are not forced upon us—they are embraced. A heart that loves often refuses relief, for even pain becomes precious when tied to love.

Old women threw off wrinkles, young men cast away their dark complexions or crooked teeth. Others brought strange ailments—some real, some imagined. Yet I noticed one thing missing: in this massive mountain of misfortunes, there was no foolishness, no cruelty, no bad behavior.

I thought: If mankind could throw away greed, arrogance, and injustice as easily as they throw away wrinkles and ailments, then the world would shine like paradise.

Meanwhile, a careless hedonist came carrying the weight of his sins. He threw them down, but when I looked closely, I saw he had also thrown away his foresight—the ability to repent and reform. What is lighter than sin carried without wisdom, and what is heavier than sin carried without regret?

When the entire field was filled with groans and sighs, the Sultan of the Heavens commanded:

“Now take back your burdens and return home.”

Panic erupted. Illusion grew busy once more, distributing sorrows in confusion. People jostled, snatching burdens, regretting their choices.

An old man who had no child gave up the pain of his illness and adopted a disobedient boy, only to beg later for his colic pain back, saying:

“That first torment was a thousand times better than this.”

A sailor gave away the torment of chains, only to inherit the torment of liver disease. A man threw away consumption only to take back another heavier illness. Everywhere I looked, regret and lament filled the field.

Here I learned another truth: Every sorrow has its secret mercy. Often the burden we hate is lighter than the one we seek in its place.

Finally, the Sultan of the Skies took pity and declared:

“Throw away your burdens once more. This time you shall each receive your own original burden.”

Joy returned. Everyone happily cast away the foreign burdens and received back their own familiar pain. At least their misery was known, not strange. And there is a strange comfort in the familiar, even when it hurts.

Then came another command:

“Banish Illusion from this place.”

At once, Illusion vanished in smoke, and in his place descended a radiant angel. His name was Patience and Steadfastness. Calm, dignified, with eyes lifted to the heavens, he sat near the mountain. As he touched the heap, the mountain of sorrows began shrinking, until each burden was reduced to a mere fraction of its former weight.

With kindness, the angel returned to each person their rightful burden, saying:

“Do not fear. Lift this with patience, and you will find strength.”

The people returned home, each carrying their own sorrow—but now lighter, more bearable, and filled with gratitude.

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Moral of the Story

No life is free of sorrow. If all burdens were exchanged, each of us would choose our own again. Illusion makes sorrows unbearable, but patience makes them light. The secret of peace lies not in avoiding grief but in carrying it with steadfastness, gratitude, and faith—for patience transforms even the heaviest sorrow into strength.