4 Lessons from Mongolian Culture, the Eternal Blue Sky, and the Value of Groundedness

Why has it become mainstream to feel disconnected? No, I am not referencing the recent phenomenon of AI and social media vs reality, but I am referring to people’s understanding of themselves. It has become popularized to select your future and set out with the hopes that life falls suit in a linear fashion.

But it doesn’t. What if it is life that understands us, and not the other way around? Could that be the key to fulfilling our true destinies?

Mongolia’s eternal blue sky would certainly argue so.

Looking Up At The Eternal Blue Sky

Had my tongue not trailed over the scorched earth that were my lips, I would not have stopped. I don’t know why I went riding at night, but I do vaguely remember why I went riding that night. In truth, it started two days ago.

As I unsaddled, my lips’ thirst and my dried canteen urged me back to the present, so alone that I felt endless accompaniment.

My eyes revolved around the sky, gravitating along the path of a shooting star that entranced my time, now willing the past encounter at the market to the forefront of my mind.

The Eternal Blue Sky’s First Appearance

Just two days ago at the Ulaanbaatar market, life was simpler. I thought I knew who I was and least I thought that I knew where I was going. But now the only consistency between the present and the past was the state of my earthen lips.

Nestled between an excursion to the Gobi and meetings with a few of the locals, I surprised myself by taking a leisurely day to stroll through the city, needing to remind myself that such a storied culture has evolved on par with the rest of us.

I played the market-gawkers game, allowing my eyes to drift upon the fur coats, exotic spices, and ancient weaponry -just long enough, peeling my eyes away before the vendors could hijack them.

But there was an exception. On guard, I immediately noted my trance and began searching for an explanation. My feet, seemingly involuntarily, oriented themselves towards the stall, while I took in my surroundings. Contrasting the gimmicky and glittery souvenirs that I had grown accustomed to seeing in this particular stretch of vendors, my eyes were surprised to take in the vast blue pictures that were hung all around. Not typically one to be drawn to art to the point of immobility, I let the moment take me away.

However, while the art was captivating, I soon discovered the likelier reason to the air’s magnetization. Inside sat an old man, stooped over his three-point, wooden-stick stool, his mouth covered by his palms, eyes barred by his outstretched fingers that looked like weathered extensions of the stool itself, in a manner that made him look trapped in time, playing peek-a-boo as a child, while only his skin continued to age.

The look on his face showed neither expectation nor wanting. Rather it was the impression of someone still curiously watching their favorite movie for the ninety-ninth time.

As I approached, and while he did not show it, I caught him off guard by not being the first to speak. Through his hands he mumbled in English that used to be fluent, “You’re looking up.”

Retracing my eyes to the eternal blue skies around me, I registered his comment and repeated for the ninety-ninth time that day “Bi zügeer l khaij baina (I’m just looking)” -my strategized way of telling someone “no” without coming across as too rude.

His palms gave way to a toothy grin and he sat up without growing any taller, “No. I said you’re looking up. People look down”, he remarked while casting a glance to the rush of bodies just outside the stall.

Through the very fact that I donned a poker face he understood that I did not. Rather than embarking on a fruitless endeavor of explanation, he, whose name still remains a mystery to me, allowed me to guide my own questioning. After two hours of welcomed interrogation on Tengri and The Eternal Blue Sky (stay tuned to learn more), I bid my farewell, feeling comfortable enough to jut in one last question, “So what do I do now?” His eyes smiled.

Understanding his silent cue, I began to duck out of the stall into the soft glow of Mongolian dusk. With one last smile, I asked how I could thank him. “Just keep looking up”, he answered. I hesitated, not sure which question he responded to.

The Decision

On my way back to the hotel that evening, the city revealed itself in all its nocturnal glory. Ulaanbaatar sprawled beneath a tapestry of neon and ancient brick with modern glass towers and bustling avenues intertwined with the historic pulse of narrow alleyways, where the aroma of street food mingled with the cool whisper of evening wind.

Amid the clamor and vibrant hues, a line of horses for rent caught my eye. Their sleek, powerful forms stood illuminated by the glow of streetlights, each one a living echo of the nomadic spirit, beckoning me to reclaim the freedom that lay dormant in my restless heart.

I made my way to the hotel, my mind still echoing the old man’s parting words. In a hurried flurry, I packed a quick bag and secured one of those noble creatures.

Fate of the Eternal Blue Sky

Two days have passed since that fateful market encounter, and now I find myself riding under the endless expanse of the eternal blue sky -a sky that seems to whisper the secrets of Tengri, of fate, and of an existence far beyond the mundane.

For two days and nights I have ridden, letting the rhythm of the horse and the warm night air guide me. It was on the second night, as I traced the persistent path of that enigmatic shooting star, that I finally grasped the deeper meaning of the sage’s lesson.

This star was different from any other; it did not simply glimmer or flash for a fleeting moment. Instead, it lingered like a luminous wanderer who changed direction ever so slightly, as if drawn by some unseen, divine force.

In that prolonged, shifting glow, I realized something essential: I learned that we keep our heads down, burdened by the weight of our daily toils, yet in reality, we must look up from time to time. I came to see that the vastness of the sky was somehow, but clearly, vaster than the steppe -an endless vault of possibility, destiny, and the silent watch of Tengri himself.

It was in that luminous dance of starlight that I understood my fate was not a closed path but an open horizon, inviting me to embrace both my freedom and my solitude.

But as the star continued its unpredictable journey across the heavens, an ominous thought took root. The trail before me, shrouded in darkness, offered no shelter. I found myself alone in the dark with nowhere to sleep, the unknown stretching out as far as the eye could see. The eternal blue sky, once a canvas of promise, now loomed as a vast, mysterious enigma, serving as a reminder that in looking up, I had also glimpsed the immense, unfathomable depths of fate.

So I ride on, my heart heavy with the knowledge that while the sky above holds endless wonders and ancient truths, it also guards secrets left undiscovered. Beneath this vast, eternal dome, I continue my solitary journey into the night, lips earth-worn, uncertain of where the path may lead, yet forever changed by the simple act of looking up.

Lessons from the Eternal Blue Sky

It’s been a few years now since that nightbound journey and you’ll be relieved to hear that I am alive, hydrated, and typing this out with chapsticked lips. Truth-be-told, even though I passed through an epiphanical transformation that night, it has taken a while for me to draw out those lessons in a way that I could understand them in our world so different from that night -that time.

While I do make a conscious effort to look up from time-to-time, at the immediate present, my head is buried and hunched over typing this article while I am sitting on a sprawling couch and listening to my German Cafe music. Ironically, though, every moment that I spend above the horizon makes me feel more at home up there than down here.

The Eternal Blue Sky’s 1st Lesson

By keeping our heads down, we don’t live our lives, we simply pass through life.

We may acknowledge fate or lack-there-of, but it is not until we interact with it that we can say we have truly lived.

Look up. Not just at the eternal blue sky; learn to embrace uncertainty, trust the unknown, and look beyond immediate concerns.

We are constantly looking down -at our phones, at our to-do lists, at our worries about the future, or simply to avoid eye contact and unpleasant conversation. But there’s an alarming trend, and it’s not even that we aren’t looking up enough, although that is indeed the solution.

What do all these actions of looking down have in common?

They’re algorithms. We follow the algorithm our phones lay out for us, we become too preoccupied by the rigid structure of our schedules, and let’s not even mention the weight of our future. Avoiding others, too, is akin to avoiding the world; akin to avoiding experiences that shape our wisdom.

When we look down, we can only glimpse so far ahead. Instead of stepping back and taking in the bigger picture within the vast horizon that the eternal blue sky provides, we become stuck on the “nexts”: our next task, our next meeting, or our next paycheck.

But when we look up, we see more. We see more clearly. And we see who we are in this life. Only then can we, like the shooting star, begin to interact with our fate.

Application:

Not all of us have seen the eternal blue sky, and that’s okay. We all will when we want. Here’s how to start small in our daily lives:

1. Take a step back to gain perspective, rather than getting lost in immediate stress.

2. Pause to observe, reflect, and appreciate what is around you.

3. Seek wisdom beyond your routine. Seek nature, new experiences, and meaningful conversations.

🔹Challenge for the Reader: When was the last time you looked up, metaphorically and literally? What truths are you missing by keeping your head down?

If we wish to look up at the Eternal Blue Sky, we must understand what we are looking for.

Tengriism and the Eternal Blue Sky: A Window to the Infinite

Long before modern skyscrapers and digital screens, the nomads of Mongolia learned to read the language of the heavens. At the heart of their spiritual practice is Tengriism, a belief system that sees the eternal blue sky not merely as a celestial dome, but as the living, breathing manifestation of fate itself. In this tradition, Tengri, the eternal sky, is both the ruler and the guide, a force that watches over the land and its people with timeless benevolence.

The eternal blue sky, or Kök Tengri, is more than a meteorological phenomenon. It is a symbol of unlimited possibility, a constant reminder that life is far vaster than the confines of our daily routines. For the Mongolian nomads, every glance upward was a ritual, an opportunity to reconnect with the divine order that governs all existence. The endless expanse overhead served as both a mirror and a map, reflecting not only the natural world but the inner workings of the human soul.

Tengriism teaches that by aligning oneself with the rhythm of the sky, one can tap into the hidden currents of destiny. The eternal blue sky is a source of wisdom, a silent mentor that offers guidance through the subtle signs of nature. It reminds us that, like the ever-shifting patterns of a shooting star, life is not a linear progression but a dance of unpredictability and grace. This ancient belief challenges us to look beyond the immediate, to appreciate that every moment is part of a grand, cosmic tapestry.

In our modern lives, we often confine ourselves to the immediate -a never-ending stream of notifications, deadlines, and trivial pursuits. Yet, the wisdom of Tengriism beckons us to do more than merely exist. It invites us to pause, to step away from the algorithms that dictate our every move, and to let our eyes wander upward. There, in the vast vault of the eternal blue sky, lies the promise of renewal, the assurance that fate is not fixed but fluid, open to reinterpretation with every breath we take.

This tradition is not about renouncing the material world; rather, it is about finding balance. Just as the Mongolian nomads remain rooted in the harsh yet beautiful landscape of the steppe while their spirits soar in communion with the sky, we too can learn to be grounded even as we reach for something greater. The eternal blue sky reminds us that the more we restrict our vision to the immediate and the tangible, the more we risk missing the infinite possibilities that surround us.

By embracing the tenets of Tengriism, we accept that life’s uncertainties are not obstacles to be feared, but opportunities to be explored. The sky, in its boundless expanse, tells us that our destiny is not predetermined by the mundane metrics of modern life. It whispers that freedom lies in acknowledging the mystery of existence and trusting that, as we lift our gaze, fate will guide us toward the path that is uniquely ours.

In this spirit, I invite you to join me in reawakening your connection to the eternal blue sky. As we transition from personal memory into the broader lessons of ancient wisdom, remember that every moment spent looking upward is an invitation to discover the infinite. It is a reminder that while our lives may be filled with the noise of the everyday, the silent majesty of Tengri and the eternal blue sky remain ever-present, waiting for us to notice.

More Lessons from the Eternal Blue Sky

The Eternal Blue Sky’s 2nd Lesson

Have you ever felt that you’ve lost control over your life?

It’s only when we see life for what it is, natural unpredictabilities included, that we begin to relieve ourselves from this unnecessary feeling of sunkenness.

We must realize that certainty is an illusion and that the unknown is not to be feared.

Far too often we enshroud ourselves in a masquerade of certainty. Our careers, relationships, and even our personal growth are all scheduled to follow a linear pattern as though life doesn’t follow a rather sporadic pattern of twists and turns.

Just because life knows us, we fall into the trap of thinking that we know life. But the truth is that life has a plan for all of us, not the other way around. When we begin to acknowledge and accept the twists that come with the stories of our lives, we gift ourselves better opportunities to take advantage of the changing circumstances. Afterall, change is not an obligation -it is opportunity.

Application:

1. Instead of resisting uncertainty, lean into it.

2. Accept that not knowing what comes next is part of life’s adventure.

3. Understand that detours often lead to the most meaningful growth.

🔹Challenge for the Reader: Think about a time in life that didn’t go according to plan. How did that experience shape you? What opportunities emerged that you couldn’t have predicted?

The Eternal Blue Sky’s 3rd Lesson

We may have all the knowledge in the world, but what good does that do for us if we don’t cultivate it into wisdom? To become wise we must experience.

Experience life. Learn through movement, exploration, and real world encounters.

Perhaps we sometimes fail to feel alive, because we are just existing. Knowledge is not good enough, that’s just facts with action only taken beforehand to learn them. Wisdom comes from action too, but is refined by taking action to confirm or negate your knowledge.

All too often, we overthink instead of act, wait until we “feel ready” before taking a leap, and seek knowledge but avoid the experience that makes it real. What’s stopping you? Use the eternal blue sky, one look and you’ll be drawn in, unable to remain actionless.

Applications:

1. The only way to truly grow is to step into the unknown.

2. You don’t need to have everything figured out before taking action.

3. Experience is the greatest teacher, so get out of your comfort zone.

🔹Challenge for the Reader: What is something you’ve been waiting to do because you feel “unready”? What if you just started?

The Eternal Blue Sky’s 4th Lesson

I don’t quite understand why people are so disconnected. Disconnected between their dreams and reality, disconnected between their work and their pleasure, and disconnected between themselves and who they are.

Discovering who we truly are would solve a lot of problems for society, and even more for us as individuals. But it starts with groundedness, the ability to connect to the Earth and the Sky.

Remain connected. Reality and dreams are intertwined by fate, which we may only fulfill when we find ourselves in both realms.

Perhaps it is a natural tendency to pick one, or at least to focus on one, but people generally seem to fall into one of two categories: 1) too grounded and too practical, or 2) too detached and too lost in dreams.

But, however you believe we were created, we were certainly created to be both. To over-pursue one or the other is to neglect the other. And the irony? One cannot be achieved without the other, so we might as well start today.

Applications:

1. Be grounded in your reality, but never lose sense of your wonder.

2. Work hard, but stay open to unexpected possibilities.

3. Plan, but be willing to change course when fate calls.

🔹Challenge for the Reader: Are you too fixated on stability or are you lost in fantasy? How can you find a better balance between earth and sky?

From Earthen Lips to Starry Eyes: A Conclusion

In the end, I’ve come to understand that the ancient wisdom of Mongolia’s eternal blue sky is not just a relic of a bygone era -it’s a living, breathing guide for our modern lives. As I reflect on those four lessons, I see them not as isolated ideas but as interwoven threads in the fabric of our existence. The call to keep looking up is a gentle reminder that, amid the endless barrage of notifications and to-do lists, there is a vast, transcendent perspective waiting to be rediscovered. We are too often trapped in the minutiae, our eyes glued to screens and our minds preoccupied with the next task, missing the infinite possibilities that dance overhead.

Yet, the nomadic spirit teaches us that true growth arises when we step off the well-worn path and embrace the unknown. It’s not enough to accumulate facts or meticulously plan our future; wisdom is born in the experience of living, born of riding into the wild, of feeling the cool rush of the night air, and of watching a shooting star alter its course as if by fate’s own hand.

And then there’s the delicate balance between being grounded and retaining our sense of wonder. Our earth-worn lips remind us that we belong to this world, yet our longing gaze toward the sky beckons us to explore beyond our immediate reality. In a world where certainty is an illusion and life’s true rhythm unfolds in unexpected twists, perhaps the key is to remain connected. Let us remain connected to both the tangible ground beneath our feet and the limitless sky above.

So I invite you, dear reader, to take a moment to look up. Let the eternal blue sky remind you that your destiny is not a closed path but an open horizon, full of uncharted possibilities. In embracing both the solidity of the earth and the awe of the heavens, you may just find the balance that turns life’s uncertainties into your greatest opportunities.