Reaching a new elevation

You realize as you climb: You’ve seen this side of the mountain before. You recognize the particular icy sting of the wind and the slick, smooth feel of the rock. You remember the hard-earned lessons vividly, though now your understanding of them is much deeper. And you’re stronger. So much stronger. You recall the way you trembled the last time you were on this face of the mountain. The terror you felt. The desperation. The confusion. The emptiness. And now you look down at your hands. Steady. Strong. You take a long, calm breath. You take a sip from the cool, still waters you’ve since discovered within you. “This is not the same as it was then. I am not the same as I was then,” you think, connecting with the part of you that was always there, underneath the layers and layers of fears, projections, perceptions. You breathe in deeply, gratefully, as if it’s your first breath. And then you turn. You look into the distance. You see that you’ve climbed above the fog line now — something you didn’t realize was possible. You can see for miles. You know you’ll be walking peacefully in that unbelievably gorgeous valley one day, once the climbing is done. Rested and renewed, you take your focus back to your next pull up the mountain, in no hurry, smiling in the sun. Your heart full.