Breaths coming in, short, shaky, shallow . . .
Don't look down. You're fine.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Faster and faster breaths come and go.
Calm. Calm. Calm is good. Breathe.
This was me. Thursday, August 15, 2013 at approximately 10 a.m. Halfway up a mountain that had turned into rock face and which I had thought I was brave enough to climb. Oh how little I sometimes know myself . . .
Last Thursday was Independence Day in Korea. Thank you for becoming independent Korea, so I could have a day off of work - and I mean that with as much respect and sincerity as possible. I decided that I would venture to 관악산 (Gwanak Mountain) and put to use my twice-used hiking shoes. I was sure they'd been lonely sitting under my bed since May so I thought they could use a good outing. Off I went at 8 a.m. to find the bus that would start me on my morning adventure.
In all honesty, I had no clue as to where I was going or where to go once I got to where I was supposedly going. However, since I moved to Korea, I've learned that I can't let little things like being clueless stop me. Otherwise I would never do anything. I finally made it to my stop (all of the adjoomas and adjoshis in their wonderful "mountain climbing" gear got off the bus so I figured that's where I should get off too). I traded out my cool sandals for hot double layered socks and stuffy but sturdy hiking boots. And then . . . I was off. Did I care that I was the only foreigner on any of those trails? Haha . . . nope.
Of course, I decided to veer off onto the path less traveled. As I walked up the rocky path, desolate of human life but overflowing with the sound of buzzing cicadas, angry looking faces carved into wooden poles made me wonder if I should possibly find a different path. I continued on. The hike seemed easy at first. A level above a leisurely stroll through the woods, with some stairs and tree roots thrown in. Then I came to a fork in the path. I chose the way that said "Temple". Shoot.
The climb began to get steeper, more and more roots and rocks reaching out to grab at my feet and ankles, hoping to make me stumble. And then, I saw it. The trees began to thin and gave way to large boulders and rock face. Pssshh, I can totally do that, I thought encouragingly to myself. I made the first part of the climb rather quickly, advancing as stealthily as a panther, as sure-footed as a mountain goat.
But then came . . . "the ledge". Duhn duhn duhn . . . I pulled myself up onto a flat and small but safe ledge. As I stood there and looked up, I realized that I was now dealing with rock face alone and my deathly fear of heights began to creep over me like sinking sand. It slowly began in my legs. Then I did the ignorant, the foolish, the stupid - I turned around and looked down. The fear began moving faster, spreading into my arms, my stomach, causing me to press my back against the solid rock. The emptiness of the space in front of me had me cornered. I slowly sank to a sitting position as the fear moved into my chest, my lungs. My breathing was now not my own, my thoughts no longer in my possession. My breaths became quickened. I gasped for air as if I were drowning. And then . . .
I began to regain control. I focused on my breathing. I prayed. I gave myself a lot of mental pep talks. I almost decided to call it a day - hey I made it halfway, alone. That's pretty good for someone with my fear of heights, right? But then I saw men and women my grandparents' age passing me up. I had to do it. I slowly stood up and made it look like I had merely been taking in the beautiful scenery. I then made my way (very slowly) up the rest of the rock face, clinging to it as if it was the love of my life. I finally made it to the end of the rock face and the rest of the boulders seemed easy after that. The view was great. The breeze felt wonderful. On that day - I consciously conquered a slight bit of my fear. It doesn't mean it's fully gone. I may not have won the war yet, but I was victorious in this battle.
Don't look back.
In all honesty, I had no clue as to where I was going or where to go once I got to where I was supposedly going. However, since I moved to Korea, I've learned that I can't let little things like being clueless stop me. Otherwise I would never do anything. I finally made it to my stop (all of the adjoomas and adjoshis in their wonderful "mountain climbing" gear got off the bus so I figured that's where I should get off too). I traded out my cool sandals for hot double layered socks and stuffy but sturdy hiking boots. And then . . . I was off. Did I care that I was the only foreigner on any of those trails? Haha . . . nope.
Of course, I decided to veer off onto the path less traveled. As I walked up the rocky path, desolate of human life but overflowing with the sound of buzzing cicadas, angry looking faces carved into wooden poles made me wonder if I should possibly find a different path. I continued on. The hike seemed easy at first. A level above a leisurely stroll through the woods, with some stairs and tree roots thrown in. Then I came to a fork in the path. I chose the way that said "Temple". Shoot.
The climb began to get steeper, more and more roots and rocks reaching out to grab at my feet and ankles, hoping to make me stumble. And then, I saw it. The trees began to thin and gave way to large boulders and rock face. Pssshh, I can totally do that, I thought encouragingly to myself. I made the first part of the climb rather quickly, advancing as stealthily as a panther, as sure-footed as a mountain goat.
But then came . . . "the ledge". Duhn duhn duhn . . . I pulled myself up onto a flat and small but safe ledge. As I stood there and looked up, I realized that I was now dealing with rock face alone and my deathly fear of heights began to creep over me like sinking sand. It slowly began in my legs. Then I did the ignorant, the foolish, the stupid - I turned around and looked down. The fear began moving faster, spreading into my arms, my stomach, causing me to press my back against the solid rock. The emptiness of the space in front of me had me cornered. I slowly sank to a sitting position as the fear moved into my chest, my lungs. My breathing was now not my own, my thoughts no longer in my possession. My breaths became quickened. I gasped for air as if I were drowning. And then . . .
I began to regain control. I focused on my breathing. I prayed. I gave myself a lot of mental pep talks. I almost decided to call it a day - hey I made it halfway, alone. That's pretty good for someone with my fear of heights, right? But then I saw men and women my grandparents' age passing me up. I had to do it. I slowly stood up and made it look like I had merely been taking in the beautiful scenery. I then made my way (very slowly) up the rest of the rock face, clinging to it as if it was the love of my life. I finally made it to the end of the rock face and the rest of the boulders seemed easy after that. The view was great. The breeze felt wonderful. On that day - I consciously conquered a slight bit of my fear. It doesn't mean it's fully gone. I may not have won the war yet, but I was victorious in this battle.
Don't look back.
Breaths coming in, short, shaky, shallow . . .
Don't look down. You're fine.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Faster and faster breaths come and go.
Calm. Calm. Calm is good. Breathe.
This is soon to be me. Wednesday, September 4, 2013 at approximately 11 p.m. My flight to separating me from the home I've come to know and love and bringing me to the home I've always known and loved.
Life can often feel like a steep mountain climb. Some of it is a breeze, but then you come to the boulders and rock faces. You take on the challenge, full of courage and hope. You get halfway there and stop. Hey I made it this far - that's pretty good for someone like me, right? You look up at the rest of the challenge facing you and suddenly it seems easier to just go back from whence you came. But when you decide to continue to make the climb, when you make the conscious choice to win the battle, you push forward with renewed hope and a little extra strength. And when you get to the top - well, the view is just splendid and the breeze gently embraces you. You've yet again made it through one of life's challenges.
Changes are scary. My life is changing by dramatic proportions. It's going to be a scary climb. I don't even know what's waiting for me at the top. I don't know if I want to know what's waiting for me at the top. But I know that I must keep climbing, because in the end, the top is going to be just grand and breezy.
This is soon to be me. Wednesday, September 4, 2013 at approximately 11 p.m. My flight to separating me from the home I've come to know and love and bringing me to the home I've always known and loved.
Life can often feel like a steep mountain climb. Some of it is a breeze, but then you come to the boulders and rock faces. You take on the challenge, full of courage and hope. You get halfway there and stop. Hey I made it this far - that's pretty good for someone like me, right? You look up at the rest of the challenge facing you and suddenly it seems easier to just go back from whence you came. But when you decide to continue to make the climb, when you make the conscious choice to win the battle, you push forward with renewed hope and a little extra strength. And when you get to the top - well, the view is just splendid and the breeze gently embraces you. You've yet again made it through one of life's challenges.
Changes are scary. My life is changing by dramatic proportions. It's going to be a scary climb. I don't even know what's waiting for me at the top. I don't know if I want to know what's waiting for me at the top. But I know that I must keep climbing, because in the end, the top is going to be just grand and breezy.
