but did i learn?

There’s a book by Harold Kushner entitled, When All You’ve Ever Wanted Isn’t Enough, in which tells of an American tourist who is in India on the day of a pilgrimage to the top of a sacred mountain. During the day, thousands of people climbed the steep path to the mountaintop. The tourist, who believed himself to be in good physical shape, decided to engage in the experience. But within a short time, he found himself out of breath and unable to climb further, while women carrying babies and frail old men with canes moved easily past him up the mountain.

He asked his climbing partner why people who seemingly shouldn’t be able to climb as well as he could be moving so easily up the mountain.

His partner replied, “You have the typical American habit of seeing everything as a test. You see the mountain as your enemy, and you set out to defeat it. So, naturally, the mountain fights back, and it is stronger than you are. We do not see the mountain as our enemy to be conquered. The purpose of our climb is to become one with the mountain, and so it lifts us and carries us along.”

Okay, well, I can relate . . . to the American.

I entered my 20’s accepting challenges, looking for more difficult tasks, “sucking up” the pain and injuries, as well as the signs to slow down, find balance, and ease up.

However, I never once considered “becoming one” with or renaming what I perceived as things to be conquered.

As the years and challenges ticked forward I did learn to temper myself, slow down, smell the roses, and was able to achieve some balance in my life.

A couple of decades later, my wife and I moved to a mountainous region of the U.S., and have enjoyed hiking the oft-steep terrain. It is a far cry from the flatland hiking we’d done where we grew up in the Midwest.

One fine day, I got the idea that climbing up the mountain where we now lived was a great way to get some cardio, as well as enjoy the outdoors and the fresh air where we now live.

I committed to it. I did it. It was tough. Actually, it sucked.

Then, I read Harold Kushner's book.

I began to see the mountain as an ally instead of an adversary, and have even thanked the mountain for allowing me to climb it. When I remember that the mountain is my friend, the climb goes much easier.

I do my best to remember this way of perceiving the world amidst many of the challenges that I face along the journey of life. When I look back, none of the challenges (mountains) were there to stop me. Instead, they were there to instruct me.

The question, as always, is:

What did I learn?