Wheels Rolling Over the Alps: Where Floating Clouds Pass, the Heart Follows the Peaks

As the wheels start to turn, the hustle and bustle of Milan is left far behind. The engine hums low—not an escape, but a journey to fulfill an ancient pact with the heavens and one’s own heart. The destination is the Dolomites, that rugged land known as the "Mountain Soul." This kind of freedom is just like the carefree spirit sung by Adam Cheng: “With my heart, I have my own path.” With the steering wheel in hand, the road ahead unfolds like a painting. ⛰️ Floating Clouds Over Geisler: The Mountains Stand, the Heart Finds Peace Driving into the mountains is like sailing through an ink sea. The gentle green plains of northern Italy quickly give way to the stark bones of the Alps. Arriving in Ortisei, dusk drapes the town in a warm veil. Settling in, opening the window, the crisp air filled with the scent of pine and cooking smoke floods the lungs. In the distance, the silhouette of the mountains stands silent like ancient philosophers. The next day, the wheels glide lightly toward the Funes Valley. The mountain road winds like the earth’s flexible crease. When the jagged outline of the Geisler peaks suddenly comes into view, breath catches. They stand there with a nearly fierce solemnity, as if time itself has frozen at their feet. Choosing a grassy slope to sit, waiting for dusk. The sunlight🌄, like gold leaf, slowly gilds the snowy peaks, then flows down to the lonely spire of the St. Giovanni Chapel. The floating clouds, light as air and weightless, silently glide and gather between the peaks. In this moment, the heart suddenly echoes the line, “Who doesn’t have some unattainable dreams, gently sent away by the wind”? The gains and losses, entanglements, and unfinished obsessions that occupy the heart suddenly feel light, like the wisps of cloud passing before the eyes. The mountains stand, silent yet seemingly telling everything—the very existence is the answer; there is no need to ask the floating clouds for meaning. In the molten gold of sunset, it feels as if I have drunk a cup of naturally brewed fine wine, the intoxication not confusion but clear serenity. Whether unforgettable or unattainable, all can be entrusted to the vast mountain wind, gently “sent” away. Cloud Paths on the Peaks☁️: Walking Beyond the Sky, the Heart Becomes the Universe At the foot of the Seiser Alm. The cable car ascends like a bird breaking free from gravity. Stepping onto Europe’s largest alpine meadow, the view instantly expands infinitely. Below is a velvet green meadow dotted with unknown wildflowers; in the distance, the Schlern and Rosengarten groups embrace like a giant lotus throne. The shadows of white clouds leisurely stroll across the meadow, cattle and sheep scattered like musical notes. Walking along the gentle path feels like strolling on clouds. The air is crisp and pure, each breath like sipping nectar. Reaching a high point and looking back, the mountains overlap and valleys crisscross. The phrase “heart follows the cloud paths on the peaks” comes to mind. At this junction of earth and sky, walking itself becomes a philosophy. The word “crisscross” not only describes the path’s spread but also the infinite extension of the spirit. No need to deliberately “hold grudges” or force “happiness.” When your feet step on these billion-year-old rocks, and your gaze embraces the boundless green and white, the heart naturally fills with a grander order. The so-called “world” — those worldly ties, grudges, and passions — become so small as to be almost negligible on such a magnificent scale. Every step forward is a practice of “having my own path”—the road is underfoot and also the wilderness opened in the heart. Mirror Lake Meadow, Forgetting the World: A Clear Realm, Returning to Silence Karersee Lake is like a piece of emerald lost in the mountains. The jagged silhouette of Latemar Mountain is clearly reflected on the calm, mirror-like surface, forming perfect symmetry. The water’s color is magical, a blend of blue and green, so deep it seems to absorb all noise. Standing by the lake, gazing at this “Mirror Lake,” time seems to freeze again. The water is silent but reflects the drifting clouds, the mountains’ steadfastness, and the reflections of visitors on the shore. It is the most honest mirror, revealing outward appearances and faintly reflecting the folds within the heart. Those “worldly matters” once thought impossible to let go now seem like ripples cast against the vast mountain lake backdrop, eventually settling into calm. The lake’s absolute tranquility reminds of the wisdom of “forgetting”—not forgetting in the sense of oblivion, but letting go of attachments, allowing them to pass like cloud shadows without leaving a trace. Back on the boundless meadow of Seiser Alm, lying on the soft grass. The warm sunlight covers the body, the fresh scent of grass lingers at the nose. Looking up at the sky, washed clear blue, a few white clouds leisurely drifting. The distant sound of cowbells is the simplest melody in this world. Closing my eyes, the heart is clear and vast. Adam Cheng’s line “a smile has already passed the storms” is truly understood now. “Laughing and forgetting” is not indifference but the clarity and release gained after witnessing the grandeur of mountains and rivers and understanding worldly affairs like clouds. In the embrace of this alpine meadow, under the clear gaze of Mirror Lake, the world’s turmoil is gently filtered away, leaving only the peace and joy of coexisting with heaven and earth. Gains and losses, honor and disgrace, all become light talk; the heart’s direction is only this boundless green and blue before the eyes, and the infinite freedom that ripples within. Return Journey: The Mountain Soul in the Bones, Laughing at the Storms The wheels carry the intention to return, filled with the mountain’s breath, the wind’s memory, and fragments of light. Passing by Lake Garda, its vast blue waves offer another kind of gentle water color. Looking back at the gradually fading outline of the Alps, those rugged peaks are no longer just symbols on a map; they have become a spiritual imprint, flowing into the blood. The mountain road winds, the floating clouds still gather and disperse outside the car window. Perhaps there were still ripples in the heart on the way here, but on the way back, it is like the waters of Karersee, settling into the clearest base tone. The mountain soul of the Dolomites, with its eternity and grandeur, silently teaches the deepest way of “laughing at” life’s storms—the ever-changing winds and clouds are the norm of heaven and earth, the silent peaks are the eternal words of the universe. If the heart can reflect like Mirror Lake without attachment, be as vast and embracing as the meadow, and be as steady and free as the wheels, then one can walk steadily and far on life’s mountain roads, laughing at the clouds rolling and unfolding. Where floating clouds pass, no trace remains; the heart roams freely on the peaks. Mirror Lake reflects the distant world, lying on the meadow forgets the worldly hustle. Laughing at the storms rising beneath the wheels, the return journey is also a new expedition.