I stood at the base of a mountain, so high above me I could not see the top.
I’ll do it, I thought. I’ll climb the mountain. Equipped with hiking sticks, a hydration pack, and some nourishing snacks, I took my first step onto the rocky incline and began my ascent.
The start was slow, the unchanging terrain monotonous and dull. Without the anticipation of the view, I might have given up, but it got easier: My legs adjusted to the upwards slope, and every now and then I’d cross someone else climbing the mountain who’d shout words of inspiration at me.
This is the highest I’ve made it, they’d say, but your persistence makes me think I could climb higher.
I passed more hikers as well as mountain dwellers who gave food and water to us climbers. They cheered me on, offering sustenance, words of support, and wisdom to help me. I accepted their gifts gratefully, touched by their interest in my journey and contributions to my success.
Thank you, people said. It’s been a long time since someone tried to climb this high. We were beginning to think it wasn’t possible anymore.
I felt more energized with each person I met; my motivation to continue, to climb higher and higher, growing.
I was a quarter of the distance from the top of the mountain when the number of people I saw declined. I questioned if I’d last the final stretch of the journey, but I’d climbed too far to give up.
At the top of the mountain, my body cold and aching, I saw something that made me collapse to my knees.
I hadn’t climbed a mountain.
I stood on the top of a hill at the base of a mountain, its high peaks towering over me the same way the small hill once did.
Exhausted, I took note of my location, found gratitude for the journey thus far, and rested.
I rested until I felt ready to tackle the mountain ahead of me, and then I remembered the people below… Did they know it was only a hill? Were they misled as I had been? I yelled down to them: “Don’t stop now! There’s more to go! But the view up here is incredible.”
Up and up the mountain I went, but I couldn’t shake one notion from my thoughts.
Was I truly climbing a mountain, or another hill? Would I know before I reached the top of it, whatever it was? I realized I would have to challenge myself to find out.
Here are some journal prompts to help us reflect on our past year inspired by this metaphor:
Did you climb a mountain, only to find it was a hill? What was your hill, and what is your mountain?
Did you reach the top of the mountain? How similar or different was the journey to what you anticipated?
How will you prepare for the great climb of the mountain (or future mountains) so you don’t run out of energy or resources?
Did anybody help you on your journey, and did anybody impede your progress?
What were the easiest parts of the climbs, and what were the hardest?
Every year presents the opportunity to scale new landscapes, and though the climb of 2023 will require dedication and effort on my part, I’m looking forward to the views.
Happy New Year! Here’s to unlimited growth in 2023!
Very clever Marcus
Thanks for this. By the by, have you ever read "Hope for the Flowers?" It's a kids book from, I believe the 1970's. I love it and recently reread it. Check it out - since then I've stopped conceiving of things as "climbs" and thought more about metamorphosis. Happy New Year!