Climbing Mountains
While on the treadmill this morning (which is one of the best places to think or read a few chapters of the latest book on my Kindle) I started thinking about this girl I know. She's one of the most talented writers I've come across over the last couple of years, but she's so full of anger, rage and hurt. It oozes out with every negative phrase, every jagged remark, every bitter line - and all with a smile. I know the smile isn't genuine, but a mask to hide the pain and fear that drives her and enslaves her. I'm sure she doesn't think I like her, but I neither like her nor dislike her; I pity her because I used to be her. I distance myself from her because she's on a mountain I've already climbed; an obstacle behind and below me, and one I'll never allow myself again to climb its ledges.
My thoughts quickly brushed over the many mountains I've already climbed, the peaks I've reached and the valleys I've marched through. It brought me back to one particular climb where I stumbled upon a great revelation about myself and my journey. I was struggling up the side of this one particular peak; I was angry, frustrated and twisted into a really tight knot. I was tired. I kept looking down at the ground behind me, irritated I had been forced to walk through this particular valley below me in the first place. It wasn't fair for me to be there. In fact, it wasn't fair I've had to walk through so many ugly places. Why couldn't I walk through a beautiful meadow instead of a dark dangerous wood? Why did my mountainside have to be so tall, so jagged, and so hard to climb? Where were my rolling hills with finely etched paths and sweet-smelling flowers? Why couldn't I be Cinderella or Snow White and have a Prince Charming reach down from my mountain's precipice and pull me to safety and save me heartache, calluses, scars and muscle strain?
A voice echoed in the wind, "There is no Prince Charming; there's only you. You're the only person who can get you to the top of this mountain. The only person you'll meet on its peak is yourself. So, who are you? Who will you meet when you get to the top? Will you be strong? Will you be content? Will you be happy? Will you be victorious? Will you be an over-comer? Or will you be empty, shallow, vapor-less and blown away by the slightest breeze into nothingness? Quit waiting on someone to save you; save yourself. Quit looking behind you, and strive for what's ahead. Live in the moment. Quit blaming others and start giving yourself credit."
It took me a long while and a few more mountains to recognize who waited for me at the top of all my mountains. It took a little longer to discover that they also walked in the valley and climbed with me up the sides. It took me even longer to realize that the best part of my life wasn't found in the peaks, but in the journeys to reach them. The peaks are great; but they're not the solution, the conclusion or the answer to the questions we seek. It's a small moment of achievement, but it's only brief. I've come to love the person who walks through those valleys, who smiles at the mountains in front of them, who glances up and sees another goal, another destination, another challenge, another peak.
I pity this girl because she limits herself. She's her own downfall; her own mountain. The peak she's about to reach will not bring her the happiness, the solution or the consolation she longs for; only disappointment. There is no Prince Charming or Happily Ever After waiting for her, only her close companions – Fear, Anger and Depression. They're faithful companions; dependable and have never failed to show up. What we find at the top of our mountains, are what we carry with us.
I hope one day she discovers herself on one of her peaks. If she can only see the true beauty of whom she is, which has nothing to do with her outside appearance or talent, there's no telling how high a mountain she'd be able to climb. She has everything needed to be able to crest an Everest. I pity her because she struggles on an ant hill. Her greatness won't be found in her talent; for talent isn't something a person gains but is inherit from birth. It will be found in the walk and in the inheritance she leaves behind. Money, fame and fortune can't purchase a good legacy. Talent can't produce integrity or character. Neither can any of these things rescue us from ourselves.
These thoughts this morning are more for me than for this girl I pity. It reminds me of what I'm striving for; what I hope to achieve in this life. These words of encouragement may never reach her ears, or even be intended for her. She may be me, because I used to be her, and the Me Now may be reminding me of the Me Then as a warning for the Me To Be.
My thoughts quickly brushed over the many mountains I've already climbed, the peaks I've reached and the valleys I've marched through. It brought me back to one particular climb where I stumbled upon a great revelation about myself and my journey. I was struggling up the side of this one particular peak; I was angry, frustrated and twisted into a really tight knot. I was tired. I kept looking down at the ground behind me, irritated I had been forced to walk through this particular valley below me in the first place. It wasn't fair for me to be there. In fact, it wasn't fair I've had to walk through so many ugly places. Why couldn't I walk through a beautiful meadow instead of a dark dangerous wood? Why did my mountainside have to be so tall, so jagged, and so hard to climb? Where were my rolling hills with finely etched paths and sweet-smelling flowers? Why couldn't I be Cinderella or Snow White and have a Prince Charming reach down from my mountain's precipice and pull me to safety and save me heartache, calluses, scars and muscle strain?
A voice echoed in the wind, "There is no Prince Charming; there's only you. You're the only person who can get you to the top of this mountain. The only person you'll meet on its peak is yourself. So, who are you? Who will you meet when you get to the top? Will you be strong? Will you be content? Will you be happy? Will you be victorious? Will you be an over-comer? Or will you be empty, shallow, vapor-less and blown away by the slightest breeze into nothingness? Quit waiting on someone to save you; save yourself. Quit looking behind you, and strive for what's ahead. Live in the moment. Quit blaming others and start giving yourself credit."
It took me a long while and a few more mountains to recognize who waited for me at the top of all my mountains. It took a little longer to discover that they also walked in the valley and climbed with me up the sides. It took me even longer to realize that the best part of my life wasn't found in the peaks, but in the journeys to reach them. The peaks are great; but they're not the solution, the conclusion or the answer to the questions we seek. It's a small moment of achievement, but it's only brief. I've come to love the person who walks through those valleys, who smiles at the mountains in front of them, who glances up and sees another goal, another destination, another challenge, another peak.
I pity this girl because she limits herself. She's her own downfall; her own mountain. The peak she's about to reach will not bring her the happiness, the solution or the consolation she longs for; only disappointment. There is no Prince Charming or Happily Ever After waiting for her, only her close companions – Fear, Anger and Depression. They're faithful companions; dependable and have never failed to show up. What we find at the top of our mountains, are what we carry with us.
I hope one day she discovers herself on one of her peaks. If she can only see the true beauty of whom she is, which has nothing to do with her outside appearance or talent, there's no telling how high a mountain she'd be able to climb. She has everything needed to be able to crest an Everest. I pity her because she struggles on an ant hill. Her greatness won't be found in her talent; for talent isn't something a person gains but is inherit from birth. It will be found in the walk and in the inheritance she leaves behind. Money, fame and fortune can't purchase a good legacy. Talent can't produce integrity or character. Neither can any of these things rescue us from ourselves.
These thoughts this morning are more for me than for this girl I pity. It reminds me of what I'm striving for; what I hope to achieve in this life. These words of encouragement may never reach her ears, or even be intended for her. She may be me, because I used to be her, and the Me Now may be reminding me of the Me Then as a warning for the Me To Be.
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