LIFE, LIKE A MOUNTAIN

If only we were wise at the beginning of our steps in life.

If only we knew, as we moved through the young chapters, what lay ahead—perhaps we would have prepared for the unknown terrain we would one day descend into and a climb ahead.

But were we meant to see that far ahead?

Or was our young, playful heart meant to remain protected—shielded from the knowledge of where the path would lead—so innocence could be preserved?

How far would we have been willing to travel had we known what we would one day have to face?

When I try to understand life, I see it visually.

A mountain comes to mind.

From a distance, it stands tall—intimidating—an effort my younger self wanted no part in climbing. Instead, I stayed close to the valley, where wildflowers grew and the air felt calm. My younger self found comfort and safety there.

As life moved me forward, I was drawn by wonder. I walked on, noticing how gravity subtly shifted, how the climate changed. I rearranged the gear I carried—adding layers to keep warm, shedding weight to stay cool.

There were moments when time seemed to stand still. The view became too meaningful to rush past. Yet the journey continued, sometimes without choice. The environment changed again, and I wasn’t always prepared for the pause.

Some pauses were disheartening—seasons beyond my control—filled with doubt and fatigue. And it was there, in those moments, that I found a tool left quietly along the path.

Resilience.

So I continued on, resilience by my side. I reached places I never planned to reach. The weather shifted. Storms found me. I searched for shelter, yet illness, heartbreak, and loss still made their way in.

And still, resilience led.

I realized that although we make plans and dream dreams, we are no longer in the meadow filled with wildflowers. The fragrances of youth remain only in memory. Now we walk more carefully, aware of the risks.

Yet resilience—stronger than our own understanding—teaches us to trust.

Along the way, we gather something else.

Wisdom.

With wisdom, I find myself walking openly toward the summit. And when I reach the top, the air is clean and untouched—ground not everyone has stood upon.

From there, I look down and see the valley. I can almost make out the wildflowers. I see the youth playing. I remember myself.

And I am filled with peace.

I am also filled with compassion—because wisdom brings perspective. I see now that life is a mirror of this mountain. You don’t always plan to climb it. You find your way through darkness and storms. And what you gain is trust—the understanding that even when you don’t know what’s around the corner, there are always tools left along the path.

If you stay open enough to see them, they will carry you toward your destiny.