The Verticality of Will

In the high, thin air of the mountains, the world is reduced to the essential. There is the rock, the ice, and the singular, rhythmic strike of the hand against the cold. We often speak of life as a journey across a flat plain, a steady walk toward a distant horizon, but perhaps it is more accurate to view it as a series of vertical negotiations. We are always reaching for the next hold, testing the weight of our own resolve against the gravity of our circumstances. It is a quiet, solitary labor, this business of moving upward when the surface offers no easy purchase. We do not climb because the summit is a place of comfort; we climb because the act of suspension, of holding on when the world is steep and unforgiving, defines the very texture of our existence. Is it the height that changes us, or the simple, stubborn refusal to let go of the wall?

Ronnie Glover has captured this quiet struggle in his image titled Climb Your Mountain Every Day. It serves as a stark reminder that we are all, in our own way, suspended against the ice. How do you find your footing when the path turns vertical?