Walk to the summit
There is a difference between someone who climbs a mountain and someone who chooses to live on it. The climber reaches the summit and plants her flag, a record of fortitude and determination, an emblem of her bigness in the world. The citizen of the mountain, who has made a life six thousand feet above the rest of us, has flags as well, but they make no claim. She knows her smallness. Her flags offer prayers for peace and safe passage to those who don’t know theirs.
I love the thought of these two characters meeting. And often, in life, they do.
The climber stops midway through her journey for a cup of tea and a rest at a home that looks to her, more like an eagle's aerie. Maybe she pauses to imagine life on this slender, cloud-covered ledge. Suddenly, she feels fragile. The mountain woman greets her. She listens as the climber and guide recover from the perils of her own backyard. They talk about the thrills of the day and map their next moves with careful thought. Suddenly, she sees that her life, her small white house in the sky with tea and a loyal dog, are their own record of strength.
The mountain is an enlightened thinker, a teacher, a monk, a friend, a heaven and hellscape, a blister-maker, a truth teller, and sometimes, a bully. But she’s also a magic mirror. We see our reflection crystal clear in the solid rock.
In the quiet that follows, both women sit together, warmed by their shared humanity and the steam rising from their cups. The climber, once so focused on the summit, begins to notice the subtle rhythms of mountain life—the way the wind shifts at dusk, the distant call of a bird, the patience required to thrive in thin air. The mountain woman, in turn, is reminded of the courage it takes to leave the comfort of home and seek new heights. In their differences, they find a kinship, each recognizing the other’s unique wisdom.
When the time comes for the climber to continue her ascent, she does so with a new sense of humility and gratitude. The mountain woman waves her off, her prayer flags fluttering in the breeze, sending silent blessings skyward. Both know the mountain will test them again, in different ways, but for a moment, they have shared a summit of understanding—one that lingers long after the path diverges.
Later, as dusk settles and the mountain is painted in shades of lavender and gold, the mountain woman sits quietly by her window, watching the last light fade. She thinks of the climber, now a small figure moving steadily upward, and smiles. Each journey—whether up the steepest slope or through the quiet persistence of daily life—requires courage. The mountain, ever patient, holds space for both: the boldness of the ascent and the steadfastness of simply staying, each a testament to the human spirit in its own remarkable way.
Libby DeLana is an award-winning executive creative director, designer/art director by trade, who has spent her career in the ad world. Click here to get your copy of Libby’s first published book, Do Walk. You can connect with Libby on Instagram @thismorningwalk and @parkhere.