The climb
It’s very Swiss to constantly be hiking it seems. I like the outdoors. I like a long walk for beauty’s sake but I’m not a mountaineer. I guess it’s because I’m not sure-footed and more than a little clumsy. Isn’t the point of a hike to enjoy the natural beauty and connect with the the glorious Earth? Well its a tad hard for me to enjoy while scaling a rock face.
I went on a hike recently that I felt was definitely beyond my capability - but not my capacity. On the most beautiful day of the mini break, I went up a mountain in the Italian facing part of the Swiss Alps. At first laughing, chatting, exclaiming at the picturesque scenery, spotting little black squirrels (a breed I had never seen) and breathing deeply – air that literally smelled like la palma green - if la palma green were to have a smell.
After a short time the climb became most decidedly vertical. For a novice like me who is definitely afraid of falling, (mostly because I’m totally afraid of damaging my face and/or chipping tooth or heaven forbid scaring! Oh vanity! thy name is Florence!) this hike stopped being “fun”. I became quiet and more focused in my pursuit of avoiding all of the above. Up I went, thinking more about the way down, (as that’s the worst for me) and in my deep focus, I missed a lot, woefully, of the beauty surrounding me. Funny how fear stirs up my internal voices. Voices that only got louder as each step got more measured. Up and up I went. Quieter and quieter I became. I didn’t dare voice my concern. I didn’t want to be a burden, and I didn’t want to be a “fraidy cat” (haven’t thought about being called that since I was seven - sigh!) . The fear voices became ever more threatening:
“Why aren’t you in better shape?”
“This will never get easier with age”
“If not now, when?”
“Just get through this…”
Months into my journey here, I’ve had more peaceful walks and times of reflection. Mostly about my own proverbial climb and those who are climbing along side me. The climb to establish myself at my new job. The climb to understand a new culture and my place within it. The climb to keep my myriad of goals ahead of me and to keep taking all the treacherous but diligent steps to achieve the next milestone on the ambitious journey. The climb to be a present friend, daughter, sister, colleague extending a hand to those in my circle or out who are climbing too.
I am scared of slipping and falling. Flailing arms, skinned knees and battered face, wounded pride, defeat, brokenness. But I climb.
This past Friday evening by the lake, I watched a group of six boys swim. They were maybe between the ages of 11 and 12, some smaller and some stouter they shouted at the briskness of the water, and in turn flexed burgeoning muscles at each other, laughing and whooping with the energy of their youth. I admired their carefree abandon. Counting one – two – three, before tossing the elected boy off the floating pontoon and jumping up and down in a conquering fashion. It was a little Lord of the Flies-esque. They were all fearless energy - or were they? They have their own hills to climb, school and family life isn’t smooth for everyone. Even at that young age who knows perhaps some of them were already mountaineering.
Sometimes the climb is chosen, and sometimes it isn’t. There is no flat road in life. Sure there are moments of respite but life, if we are living is a climb. From the time we are born well into our decline we pace, the hill, switching back, finding the foot holds, sometimes slipping but scrambling to feel the certainty again. What helps? The extended hand of a companion who is in a more steady place. The knowledge that there are even those joyful times where we goof off and jump up and down wildly as we reached the pinnacle of one place or find the flat and can rest… before we start on the muddy or rocky way up again.
Where are you in your climb? Are you losing your breath? Is the air a little thin? Are you searching for a friendly hand to help steady you? Have you celebrated wildly on the flat, are you rested and anxious to scale the peaks again?
In the words of the brilliant young, award winning poet, Amanda Gorman,
“If we're to live up to our own time,
then victory won't lie in the blade.
But in all the bridges we've made,
that is the promise to glade,
If only we dare.”
Share your thoughts about your climb below. My hand is extended.