by Christina Socci
The Zen of Mountain Climbing
“It is not the mountain we conquer, but ourselves” Edmund Hillary
“Truly it may be said that the outside of a mountain is good for the inside of a man” George Edward Wherry, Alpinist
I remember thinking three things as I clung to the scraggly bushes on a mountain in the High Pyrenees:
1. Where did the path go?
2. Goodness that’s a lot of mud.
3. One does not simply walk into Mordor—approach with caution.
Of course, there was also the persistent concern that I would fall into the yawning abyss just a few inches away from my ragged sneakers. Being on a mountain in this situation does not give you a lot of options (namely, up or down), so I kept climbing. And, like Stevie Nicks, I turned around. Somehow, between the rock formation that looked suspiciously like Pride Rock from The Lion King and my new location, I found myself suddenly aware of how Edmund Hillary must have felt when he finally got to the top of Mount Everest: amazed by the view and at the fact that I was still alive. And yet, to be honest, the beauty of the view far outweighed my appreciation for my continued existence.
I’m not a city girl by any means, but being in the Pyrenees last weekend had an incredible effect on me. Maybe it was breathing all of that fresh air. Or learning about a completely different way of life. Or playing charades by a roaring fire. Or, possibly, getting to pet a sheep and hear a rooster sing in French. The list goes on for quite a while. Yet standing on top of that mountain symbolized all of those other experiences into one Zen moment of complete wonder.
I like to think that someday, I’ll go back to the mountains and make enough cheese, garbure, and apple-based pastry to feed an entire village. If anyone knows where I can get a good price for a couple of sheep and maybe a rooster or two, let me know.