“How much discomfort do we have to overcome on the way to growth?” I wonder sometimes.
Recently I cycled up a steep hill in the dark. It wasn’t that long, yet those 15minutes where enough to get me in sweat and my legs to hurt. It became a little ritual to me, to cycle and then climb up this mountain for sunrise. Looking back at my hometown below I start wondering: “Do I really want to embark on another cycling mission?” Was it really that great to cycle myself across all these mountains? Or am I just idealising now. When these mountain peaks are no longer insurmountable in front of me, but a sweet memory of my glorious achievements in the past?
I am not sure. Yet I will find out by climbing that mountain right in front of me. In that moment, I look up the steep path leading through the dark forest. And myself doesn’t think it was a good idea to come here. Do I really have to go all the way up?
It takes me little longer than 45minutes of uphill walking, to change my mind. And find the answers to my questions. A few times I gasp for air. When I pull myself up on a steep path, holding on to the roots that stick out of the barn soil. “That’s exhausting.” I think. Just before I remind myself that all I have to do is to set one foot after the other. This might be exhausting. Yet it is a very simple task, that I am well able to execute, if needs be for hours. I can vision the top of this mountain in my head. But at the same time I have to stay here in the present. Somewhere in these slopes, advancing only one pace at the time. A lesson I could apply to most things in my life. Any growth happens at the top of the mountain, after a long way up, whether that mountain is a job, a life, a relationship...
I sweat and walk and breathe and think.
Just before the sun I arrive at the top. As the days are getting longer and the sunrises are earlier, I have to share the space with fewer people. A sense of calm effuses in my mind and body. The same jogger who’s quick “Hello” before he rushes back down has become less surprised with each time he sees me there too. Two guys who pass, not even looking at the view, running. One of them is chatting away, each time, while the other says little. “Between running and chatting when does he breathe?”, I wonder. A cheeky ginger cat, that rarely grants me a stroke around my ankles passes from time to time. Little round balls of fluffy birds are hoping around in the bushes. A pray bird stands still in the air, just beside me. Watching, waiting, while his wings elegantly move to adjust the course. The world around me seems so peaceful. As if all my troubles stayed down in the valley, unable to follow me up here. What seemed to be an unsolvable question down there, isn’t relevant enough to worry about anymore up here. As if the worries are just like the clouds. Heavy when they are above my head, yet inspiring strange creatures when I look at them from above.
Sinking down on a bench, I hold the hot cup of my thermos in my hands, filled with coffee. My eyes are fixed on the horizon and all these snow covered peaks. My enthusiasm grows by the minute. I overflow with love and inspiration for this life. And suddenly feel like the only thing I ever wanted to do is to get into these mountains. By foot or by bike and cross them all. Get lost between all these peaks and be part of the raw, vast earth over there. A Guy jogs past me and interrupts my thoughts with a quick “Good Morning”. Suddenly I am back with myself on that bench. Me who just did climb that mountain, but not me who just got lost in these Alps, never wanting to return. “How come there is such a dissonance between the two?”, I wonder, “The Me at the top and the Me at the foot of the mountain.” As if I'm torn between my desire for comfort at the bottom and my need for challenge and growth at the top.
I know that crossing a mountain has always been the right idea. And yet each time I have the mountain in front of me, I wonder if I shouldn’t just give up.
When I am in the middle of climbing I don’t understand why I make myself suffer so much. Or do I? Because when I think about it now, all the sweaty climbs and desperate grasps for air, seem to be the only way I really know I grow. I miss it even though I vaguely remember that it sucks when I am in it.
And finally, when I am at the top of the mountain I feel like I am exactly where I am supposed to be, doing the right thing. I feel grateful and fulfilled, peaceful and inspired. While I don’t seem to understand how I could have ever considered doing anything else than climbing mountains.
Afterwards I only remember that high at the top and how strong I felt to have made it. Which is when I start to idealize the mountain, until I am hanging in another steep slope condemning my own pull towards suffering.
“Why all that discomfort?” I ask my climbing self. “Because that’s where you grow.” reply’s my other self at the top.
As if growth and comfort are mutually exclusive, and it's the mountains of discomfort that separate the two. Which mountains will you climb to reach your full potential?
Thanks for stopping by, have a lovely Thursday!
All photos and words are owned by ©kesityu taken and written by myself.
Excellent.
It is normal that in the process that side of our brain that is there to take care of us tells us no... it always speaks loudly. But what would life be without those risks, without those tests where at some point we are climbing confidently because we have self-esteem and confidence that we can achieve anything... right?
I also feel that before growing up there is a great emptiness. Maybe that's what you experience on those summits, up there, looking at everything you let go of to focus on what really matters.
Cheers!
Growth is my favorite kind of discomfort. Second favorite is getting the deep bodywork to loosen me up after all my growing.