I tend to chase mountains when I'm feeling lost — brutal, unforgiving peaks that demand everything I've got. The climb reflecting the chaos inside me. The harder it is, the more it feels like something sacred is being worked out.
There's something empowering about driving solo down winding mountain roads at 2 AM. Something about lacing up your boots, firing up the headlamp, and stepping onto the trail in pursuit of a summit sunrise that lights a much needed fire inside.
You walk away from your car, the last guaranteed comfort you'll have for the next twelve hours, knowing what's ahead will be both painful and expansive.
One foot in front of the other. Rest when you're getting your ass kicked, but never turning back.
And when you reach the top, above the clouds, above the noise, above all of life's bullshit—you look back at the miles you climbed and remember how wildly freakin’ capable you are.
And then it hits you: the work isn't over. The summit was never the final destination. You still have a long way to go to return to where you began, but you won’t be returning as the same person who started this journey.
This is so reminiscent of the times I’ve spent trekking in Nepal. The higher I’d climb, the more I’d feel something shift, whether that was a perspective I had or a problem I was mulling over. Like you said, somehow being out in the mountains helps us work through things, although there’s no real rhyme or reason as to how this happens. Lovely read, thank you for sharing.
Hi from Colorado! 🪻 https://substack.com/@vibrationalbloom?r=58yuiy&utm_medium=ios&utm_source=profile