As you may notice the background of my page tends to change. Change is not something I don't like as long as it is within my control to change...I change my living space often to suit my mood...and I change the page to suit my mood too. I am a very visual person and sights make the best template for me to know where I am sitting in my life.
Today, it is high up on a mountain top. I love mountain climbing although I do most of mine from my couch while reading the adventures of those who are skilled at such tasks. I read anything I can get on mountain climbing and to the novice I might actually sound like I know what I am talking about. Like all adventures and experiences there is a language that goes with that particular journey. Cancer has its own language, one I am not yet ready to use.
I am sitting on my mountain, I think I may have brought the bus but I can't remembered where I parked. So I am by myself. I am surveying my world, and taking a brief reprieve of all things busy, important or relational. I am enjoying my mountain top view and the peacefulness that it allows. I have climbed this mountain a few times and know the best route. I have descended it just as many times. Looking down, I realize the danger of descending to be much worse than the ascending, as most climbers would know. We often talk of problems as mountains to be climbed but for the moment I see the summit as the place where I am starting. At some point I will begin the treacherous descent but not right now! One thing about ascending or descending mountains is that you must do them solo...you may have many around you and at times you may even belay with each other, but virtually you tackle the mountain on your own...just expecting support if you really need it and then that isn't even always possible. That is a really good analogy to the journey of cancer. No one can make the trip for you, essentially you are on your own, but you can have lots of people around you and even those many feet below supporting you through just the sound of their voices. I have all of those with me on this journey, but the descent will begin in my time to some degree and it will be on my own. I will descent at my own rate, hopefully arriving at the various designated rest spots (read base camps) before the storms hit too hard. Eventually, I will arrive at the main base camp after the final leg through the ice field and then come out the other side to celebrate another successful summit and return. You guys might have difficulty following me, unless of course you leave the bus. I will let you know when the descent begins so that you can don your climbing gear and follow me down....until then sit tight and stay warm, the descent can become very stormy.
Today, it is high up on a mountain top. I love mountain climbing although I do most of mine from my couch while reading the adventures of those who are skilled at such tasks. I read anything I can get on mountain climbing and to the novice I might actually sound like I know what I am talking about. Like all adventures and experiences there is a language that goes with that particular journey. Cancer has its own language, one I am not yet ready to use.
I am sitting on my mountain, I think I may have brought the bus but I can't remembered where I parked. So I am by myself. I am surveying my world, and taking a brief reprieve of all things busy, important or relational. I am enjoying my mountain top view and the peacefulness that it allows. I have climbed this mountain a few times and know the best route. I have descended it just as many times. Looking down, I realize the danger of descending to be much worse than the ascending, as most climbers would know. We often talk of problems as mountains to be climbed but for the moment I see the summit as the place where I am starting. At some point I will begin the treacherous descent but not right now! One thing about ascending or descending mountains is that you must do them solo...you may have many around you and at times you may even belay with each other, but virtually you tackle the mountain on your own...just expecting support if you really need it and then that isn't even always possible. That is a really good analogy to the journey of cancer. No one can make the trip for you, essentially you are on your own, but you can have lots of people around you and even those many feet below supporting you through just the sound of their voices. I have all of those with me on this journey, but the descent will begin in my time to some degree and it will be on my own. I will descent at my own rate, hopefully arriving at the various designated rest spots (read base camps) before the storms hit too hard. Eventually, I will arrive at the main base camp after the final leg through the ice field and then come out the other side to celebrate another successful summit and return. You guys might have difficulty following me, unless of course you leave the bus. I will let you know when the descent begins so that you can don your climbing gear and follow me down....until then sit tight and stay warm, the descent can become very stormy.
1 comment:
I never thought of it that way. It makes more sense though. Until I climbed my first literal mountain, I had assumed the climb would be the worst. It was the descent that wrecked my hips and knees. I was kind of shocked at how hard the descent was tbh.
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