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That is the title of a very good non-fiction book.
But it's not what I'm going to write about in this post (at least I don't think so, at this point.) Still, totally recommend it. ;) Moving on, now.
So, for about a year now...I've been meaning to write a post about a thought I had while sitting in church one Sunday. Tonight at the temple, I felt impressed that, even with all I have to do and should really be doing, I needed to finally follow through and write this post as I had been prompted to ages ago. So, for whatever the final reason, here I am, writing this post to you.
Back to that Sunday over a year ago. I was sitting in the Relief Society room, visiting the singles' ward Mom and Dad were serving in at the time, and was looking out the window (totally paying attention as well) appreciating the fact that I could once again see gorgeous mountains in my view.
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| View from Mom's street |
Why is it that I love REAL mountains so much, but really seem to so dislike the metaphorical ones when faced with them?
At the time, I was on a semi-steep incline up a very large mountain that I'd been facing and trying to "get over" or get past for awhile at that point in time. (Insert: uncertainty with school, dating, career, life goals, paths, etc.) I could hardly remember the valley below, nor could I even see the top of this particular mountain above, so I didn't know how much longer I had to go. That can sometimes be frustrating. Needless to say, I couldn't see very far into my metaphorical future. At that time, all I saw was "up," with clouds and no top in view. So, as you can well guess, I wasn't really feeling the "love" for metaphorical mountains right then.
So, as I sat there in that Relief Society room, my dear little mind wouldn't let the thought rest, and I knew that there had to be something I could gain out of this comparison. I began to think about what it was that I liked about hiking in the real mountains so much vs. what it was about these metaphorical mountains I disliked so much. Could I somehow learn something from what I loved about real mountains that would help make me appreciate the metaphorical ones more? I think there is. At least, it meant something to me at the time.
First, in the real mountains I love hiking, but one of the things I really love about it is all I get to see and experience along the way.
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| Timp fireroad trail hike |
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| "Will you Marry Me?" Tree. My favorite, on the Stewart Falls Hike. |
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| Me and Momma |
I love everything from the big vistas to the small flowers, the sunlight in the trees, the scent of the pine and their towering trunks stretching high up above me, the wildlife, the big rivers and glistening creeks, the rocky passes to climb over and jump along (pretending I'm part mountain goat, part parkour expert), the surprise waterfalls, that feeling of freshness that just FILLS your lungs, and the fun and quirky things you can also find along the way. I also usually like to take a sort of leisurely pace, so that I can see and appreciate all these things--not rushing through and kind of missing the point. I'm not hiking just to get to the top, though that is amazing too. If that was all I liked, then I'd probably appreciate hiking the Y a lot more (which is likely my least favorite hike ever, in case you were wondering. All those zig-zags of nothingness but dirt until the top. Ugh. Though, now that I'm in Ohio and away from any sort of mountain, I'd take it in a heartbeat!)
See how picky we can get about our mountains? ;) But I digress.
Instead, when in the mountains, I generally like movement that involves a change in scenery, a noticeable progression, or just interesting or beautiful things along the way to look at. I'm certainly not against stopping to check out neat things along the way that I see,
or climbing off the beaten trail to see what things look like from the top of "that rock!" a-ways off the trail. I love to see and experience all of those things. In fact, I sometimes prefer being off the path the most (don't tell the rangers), doing my own "exploring," even if it means it might take me a little longer. I'm getting a "fuller" experience, and coming to know that hike and area personally. Not missing anything. (I'll get to this in a minute.)
So. How can this all apply to metaphorical mountains? First, is the idea of appreciating things along the way.
So often the focus is just to get to the top. To hurry and get over this hill as fast as you can so that you can return to the valley below. But as they so often say "it's the journey" that matters, and, as Miley Cyrus also once said (I can't believe I'm quoting her): "it's the climb." (Oh my, I really just did that.)
If your "mountain" is something extremely painful, and not just a "hard"-but-doable or self-chosen challenge, perhaps this is the suggestion that is needed. When you are facing a metaphorical mountain that feels insurmountable, or at least unpleasant, it can help to stop and appreciate the beauty of the things you do have around you, on your way. Appreciate what you can from what you are going through or what's around you (either is good). I call these my "look-at-that-view!" breaks when hiking (aka, when I need to breathe, which is often), and though a seemingly obvious suggestion, it really is something that helps me when hiking real mountains.
So, stop and look around. What is going well? What is something that makes you smile that happened? Or what are some joys that you can find through your pain? The fact that you can't breathe as you struggle your way up in that altitude can at least help you to appreciate the breaks more. Sometimes that rawness of emotions and feeling is in and of itself a bit healing, as it wakes you up to what is real, and to other blessings that you have. Also, if you stop to address that extra pain, you can look around and appreciate the altitude you've gained--you can see that you've been moving. Sometimes, it takes a stop to force us to reflect, and to allow us to see that we have grown, progressed, and actually been making headway that perhaps we didn't see as we trudged along upwards. Just that way in life, too. Journaling (facing your emotions) and mediation are good examples of ways to do this.
So, haven't been moving? Stopped on a rock for a good cry and haven't gotten back up? Listen for the birds, the stillness, admire the trees, or even a bug on the flowers. AKA: Listen for the beautiful things around you--like laughter of loved ones or a call from a thoughtful friend--or appreciate the comfort of your home. Look for those ordinary day to day things that you take for granted but that are all around you that make life-life. And, then, when you've rested some...
Get up. Remember the key is to not sit forever. Don't just become so satisfied with half-way up the mountain that you miss the opportunity to see the view from the top. Hard things are hard (um, yep), but it is usually worth it to make it all the way over the mountain, and to the top.
Who wants to miss that view? You can see so far, and can appreciate what you've accomplished. It's this way too with trials. They give real perspective, often more eternal perspective, and, like Abraham, help us to know what we really are capable of (with help). (Mountains can't usually do that. ;) ) Again, this ain't nothing new. Just a true parallel.
Another thought: something that might be hard--for instance, say, challenging projects at work, or getting an advanced degree, etc-- how can I make that climb more enjoyable? Sometimes, it's not just about "getting through," but of exploring along the way. That's where you get the real experience, often find breakthroughs, learn new things beyond the standard, and find/appreciate the real beauty of what you're doing, not to mention you're often a richer or more full person when you get to the other side.
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| My team for a field study (extra) class I chose to take during my MPA, that had us doing research and consulting for LDS Humanitarian Services, specifically doing research in the Dominican Republic. |
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| We paused from work and eating to try some dancing, at the invitation of the waiters. |
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| A dear friend I made while in the DR. Leda Soto & I |
What if I just chugged on through school without ever appreciating what I was learning? What about extra opportunities you are given, through a professor, boss, whatever, that may seem a bit more challenging or a bit more work--off the beaten path, so to speak--but that can actually get you to an even better view, help you get more out of your experience, or at least enjoy or appreciate it from a different angle? Like me with school--I just want to be done and focusing on other things. But then, some of my best experiences have been "extra" things I have done, like presenting at the Ohio Valley Philosophy Conference, taking on some leadership roles in our student chapter of AEPPS, and helping out colleagues with some research.
Sometimes, exploring off the beaten path can give you a new way of looking at that mountain, or it can help you appreciate the path that you do have (so you know to get right back on it and not waiver!;)). So, sometimes, take risks! Climb an extra rock that you don't have to. It can pay off big.
You may find nothing, but you might find something that helps you see this experience (mountain) in a new way--in a more appreciative way. So, sometimes, do some exploring of where you're at and see if it doesn't just make you appreciate it a little more, or find something interesting, even if it may mean it takes you a little longer to get off that mountain. For example, a friend in graduate school took a year off to do research so as to prepare himself better for his chosen career--for after he gets over his mountain of med school. (His life after is a whooole 'nother mountain. ;)) That was a detour, to some, but provided opportunities at meeting new people, gaining new experience, getting some academic clout under his belt, etc.
One final thought: When one gets to the top of the mountain, what is it made up of? Hint: it is not usually lovely green meadows and flowers and fresh air. It's more rocks. Rocks and rocks. The rocks that we thought we were past--the ones we clamored over and struggled with and tried to get past so we could get to the top...they are still there. And in fact, they often seem to be a bit more abundant than at the bottom. Sometimes things start out at a nice easy incline, but it is usually steepest right before we get to the top. The bottoms of mountains are often more green and verdant--but the top is usually sparse and raw--open. Just like our lives sometimes, right at those points. But then also there is that view. And it is all those rocks and rocks and rocks that we clamored over, that together piled up on top of each other to build the mountain in the first place, which then allows you that view--that perspective, that progress, that growth (think strength, as you hike along). They are still with you, but now in a new and different way. They are under you, and they lifted you to that perspective.
And finally, a thought from Elder Eyring.
"But for men and women, obsessed as they should be with the eternal results that take so long, it helps to see the blessings already in hand. The prettiest flowers I’ve ever seen were among rocks near the tops of mountains. That must have been partly because I worked so hard to get there, for something else. And then, suddenly, there they were. By forcing yourself to look at them, at the blessings around you, it will be easy to do what King Benjamin suggested: “O how you ought to thank your heavenly King!” (Mosiah 2:19)." Henry B. Eyring, Law of Increasing Returns
I like how he also seems to imply that it is these mountains that help us appreciate the smaller things that we already had. That's valuable, too.
So, here's to mountains. To those hikes, and to life.
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| Thank you. :) |
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