Only another mile, I thought, keeping my head down. I watched each foot rise and fall, rise and fall, losing myself in the rhythm of it. I thought of what was on the other side of the mountain, and I remembered…
…all the stories I grew up hearing.
With each step, containing my excitement became more difficult. But it’s that excitement that kept my body moving though it should’ve stopped hours ago.
I finally get to see the place I’ve wanted to go since I was a child — the place many people called Peace. A magical location that everyone knew of, but not everyone was capable of reaching. It was a ten day trek, but that wasn’t even the worst part. See, for one to truly make it to Peace, they must trek alone.
Ten days of walking through the thick trees that decorated the monstrous mountain. Ten days without the company of anyone else but the person I’d see when I’d bend for a drink of water from the streams that would flow at my feet. Ten days that felt like a constant battle that was equal parts physical as it was mental. I wanted to quit many times. And I knew I would never encounter anything as difficult.
But that’s what made it so special. Because most people would never see Peace for themselves. And the ones that did always had completely different stories. A phenomenon that has never been figured out and most likely never will.
Everyone in my family already completed the trek. And it was because of this that I had so many stories that inspired me to keep going. My grandpa who served in the army told me when he made it to Peace the landscape pass the mountain looked like a jungle full of powerful magic beasts that were able to live in a peaceful harmony. My sister who was a florist told me that for her, pass the mountain looked like a field of endless flowers that seemed to stretch further than the stars are away from our reach. My mom, who was an architect, claimed to have saw small, colorful bungalows sprinkled at the shores of magnificent beaches. And my late father told me his looked like home…whatever that meant.
And in less than 24 hours I would get to see it for myself. And finally find out what Peace would look like for me. But the last day was by far the hardest day of them all. Not only had I ran out of food, but I ran out of positive thoughts. The once hopeful thoughts that occupied my brain eventually started to drift away and were replaced by thoughts of doubt. And it’s these doubts that slowed me down.
You should give up.
You should stop.
You don’t deserve it.
The voices got louder with each step. And with each step my journey felt more difficult. But I didn’t let that stop me. I couldn’t let that stop me. For I wanted nothing more than to make my dream a reality. And for years I believed my reality lived pass the mountain.
So I kept going. And I managed to avoid all the snakes that threatened me with venom. And all the wild animals that lurked from the bushes around me, waiting on me to give up. Waiting for me to stop moving forward. So they could feast on me. Even the plants around me, that were so beautiful, did nothing more than try to lure me in and distract me from the end goal.
I was tired. I was scared I was lonely. But I refused to be the only one in my family that didn’t make it. So I pushed pass my limits just like they had done before me.
I went over the bridges made from fallen trees. Through the wet mud that stuck to my feet. And under the branches that reached in every direction above my head. Eventually making it to the end. And forcing my way through the vines that blocked the entrance leading to Peace. But as I walked through, and saw it for the first time, it was like nothing I ever imagined.
The trees that once surrounded me opened up into a great space of nothingness. For me, pass the mountain looked like an empty space that lacked creativity and inspiration. One that made ten days feel like a lifetime of failure.
I climbed up a giant red rock and sat at the top. Staring at the space around me. Wondering why Peace looked so empty for me, but so full of life for everyone else. And for hours I sat there. Questioning myself. Wondering if I made the right choice. Or if the pain and suffering to make it there was a bad idea from the start. But just before I gave up something became clear to me. I realized that while I was walking, the closer I got to my goal the less it was about the snakes, animals, or beautiful things I would see along the way, and more about how I allowed myself to be distracted at every single moment. And how oftentimes I would find myself coming to a complete halt just to look over my shoulder and check to see what was behind me.
It was this realization that caused me to be enlightened. Because in my heart I knew there was no way to appreciate what was in front of me, when I was so incapable of letting go of what was behind me.
And with that enlightenment came a gust of wind. A powerful wind that managed to push away the clouds that I never even noticed. One that finally gave the sun room to shine. And when I stood up from that rock the space around me no longer looked empty.
Instead, I saw the most magnificent display of nature I’ve ever seen. A crystal clear lake that stretched far in every direction. Mountains in the distance that looked like tall silhouettes whose purpose was to guard the water they surrounded. Waterfalls that fell into the lake in a way that was almost too majestic for words. And fields and fields of a perfect green. Giving me the best kind of sensory overload and making me feel like I’m lost in a perfect dream.
And as I smiled and stared off into the distance, I finally realized why everyone’s story was so different.
It wasn’t because everyone saw something different. It was because everyone experienced something different.
