The western slopes of the Bitterroot mountains grow with
each step toward my ridge. What began as an evening hunt for morel mushrooms
blossomed into a 3,000-foot climb toward an unknown destination with unknown
aesthetic pleasures. Formerly, I wielded trail slogans to drag myself over each
steep portion of a trail. I might have said, “Don’t worry, this trail was built
by people for people. Eventually, it will flatten.” I now know there is a more
precise route to the top of each towering ridgeline or mountain that a trail
would not dare travel. A trail for each of us to blaze.
I am often
lazy. If not physically, certainly mentally and spiritually. I, like all
people, perceive potential threats to my fragile sense of self and truth, then
pack them away in a deep, dark corner of my mind. “A problem for a future
occasion.” Of course, just because they are packed away does not mean there is
no need to address them. In this moment, as the sun begins to set, my water is
back at camp a couple thousand feet down the mountain, dinner is waiting to be
eaten, and my logic tells me to turn around. It is getting dark and I have been
awake since four in the morning. I am hungry, a little dehydrated and probably
not thinking clearly. However, something else is factoring into the equation.
Something deeper, stronger, freer, more profound. It is that thing that tells
you to go for what you want, even though there is a cost. That thing that tells
you what is safe is not always what is best. That thing that begs you to
venture into the unknown with no safety net, no vision, no destination.
Somehow,
that thing wins this day. It doesn’t win all days. How could it? If it
did, we might never work in an office, clean our bedrooms, wash the dishes, or
go to class. The routines of our lives, however monotonous, prove
ourselves intent on establishing order within our lives. But as
order grows, it competes with that little voice of chaos begging us to say,
“Fuck it, I’m going a different way.” That voice that tells us even though we
can’t see it from the river bottom, there might be something better on the
other side of that ridge. That voice, that thing, the human spirit.
It can be
hard at times to force ourselves up and out. It can feel like our future is
bound to the sins of our past. At times, it might even seem like there is no
future. A pandemic sweeps our little planet and sends it into political chaos;
the lingering blisters of racism in a nation open and re-open, threatening to
never heal. Our jobs, friendships, love interests, don’t quite turn out the way
we had imagined in our mind. Does this mean we stop imagining? Does this mean
we settle for the same thing over and over, like dogs waiting to be fed cheap
dogfood? Sometimes, the only answer might be to starve in the interest of
getting something better. Something you deserve in life. There is no salvation
to be found within the pits of complacency. Your value is not tied to what’s
happening around you, it’s tied to what you do about it. So, what are you doing
about it?
I reach a
false summit. A massive elk antler catches my eye in the middle of a meadow. I
use the direction of the wind to sneak behind a beaded group of bull elk in
velvet. The spring snow crunches beneath my feet. My legs shake like jelly in a
jar as I posthole forward, thoughts of turning back now buried beneath the
scree miles behind where I now stand. Another false summit, but I welcome it.
I’m beginning to feel like I’m not prepared to reach my goal, whatever that is.
But eventually I do. I reach the summit. Behind me, the emotionless stares of
the surrounding peaks and valleys. Below me, the river bottom from which I
came. Ahead, mountains as far as the eye can see.
The summit
of a high ridge or mountain top, to me, never fails to serve as a concrete
reminder of our physical dependence on overcoming our own helplessness. We are,
in the end, either defined by our limitations or our determination to conquer
our limitations, test our boundaries, and evolve. Our grasp on our own
independence and freedom causally relates to our ambition to achieve what we
deserve. It is not given to us. Our value is not tied to the results or even
the opportunities, but our willingness to pursue and create results and
opportunities. I believe in a potential for greatness. I believe in a future,
better than my imagination can conjure. I believe the path less followed is
often harder. It requires us to look at ourselves critically. It challenges us
to question the routines and truths we cling to for a false sense of safety and
comfort. We cannot guarantee when we get to the top there won’t be more
mountains to climb. What we can almost certainly count on, however, is that the
climb will yield a result that lights a fire inside us we never knew possible.
A fire that burns away the old and useless and leaves new growth to take its
place.
