Night Climbing

Of late I have often cast my mind upon the situations of my peers. In no other place have I seen so many struggle in silent and stalwart resolution, seeking solutions. It seems that many face overwhelming odds. I wonder how it is that they haven't been crushed beneath the weight of the burdens they carry. Members of my family, friends, acquaintances, coworkers, people I meet on the street are all alike. There is some bruising burden that they carry in their being. Aside from the testament of human fortitude that this realisation has presented, it has also raised questions in my heart.
I have to ask, why do we suffer through so much? What is it, deep inside, that resists? When all is lost and the world seems to darken around us, from whence does the little voice that says, "I will not bow. I will not be broken" emanate? Because as hard as life may get, so many people that I meet are just plain happy with it. They are happy despite the pain and the anguish and the out and out frustration that we so frequently encounter. How can that be? How can there be joy in suffering?
Let me, then, compare life to a road. A fairly common comparison, but nonetheless a suitable example. From my perspective, I feel that I know my destination. I know where I'll end up if I do things right in this life and if I stay focused, I'll make it. Yet, that knowledge doesn't preclude nor eliminate the inevitable roadblocks of life. That, my friends, is what I see facing those around me. They have arrived at a fork in the road, or experience complications in their trek across the perilous plains of life.  So, if I can claim that I know the destination, what do a few minor set backs matter? When we slam up against that wall, that's when that little voice can call out. If it is heeded, the situation may not improve, but the resolution of the soul very well may. In that moment, when the voice inside cries, "I will not be defeated, nor deterred. I have a destination and I will not diverge from my desires" the world hangs in the balance. If we listen, we will rise and conquer. If we choose not to listen, the road we walk will take us to places that are far darker than the pits that we've ever conceived in the throes of our sorrow.
That wall is the crux we face almost constantly. So when I see my peers smiling, I know that even though they hurt, they're trying and winning. It's when you see the desperation in the eyes of others, the deep and abiding dissolution of strength and resolve that bile rises in my throat and I mourn for them. In their hearts, they are giving in to the darkness.
A little know Swiss man, Didier Berthod, illustrates perfectly the idea of listening to that little voice that originates from within the fathoms of human fortitude. He had a dream and gave every particle of his being in his attempts to reach it. He scrounged and saved and finally flew thousands of miles from his home to Squamish, B.C., Canada. Once there, he began down his path towards the eternal realm of dreams. With 2 months before him, he lived humbly and fought tenaciously. There, in mountains of the North, is a single fissure that cleaves a face of rock, known as the Cobra Crack. For 2 months, Didier poured his heart and his soul into that crack, giving his all in hopes of making the first ascent. 2 months of blood, sweat and pain later, Didier still had not managed to scale the Cobra Crack. So he returned to Switzerland, vowing that he would return to Canada.
One year later, the earth trembled and the heavens held their breath as Didier once more stared the Cobra in the eyes. Then, Didier hit the wall. A debilitating knee injury overtook all hope he had of making the first ascent. Like so much smoke and ash in the hands of a street corner mage, Didier's dreams disappeared. In that moment, he said something that I would hope we all echo in the moments of our fear and sorrow. He realised that the idea of the first ascent had consumed him and that the beauty had been sucked from his venture. So instead of cursing God and wishing to die, he gave thanks. "God had pity on me. He saw and said, 'No, Didier, it's not for you. The glory isn't for you.'" Didier realised that in his pain, it wasn't about the glory, or the triumph of the first ascent. It wasn't about the recognition of humanity for his accomplishment. It was about connecting with the route, with God's creations. That crippling blow helped him see and appreciate all that God had granted him.
When I saw that in the film First Ascent, I was blown away. How could someone who had sacrificed so much simply be content with defeat? Yet, it wasn't a defeat. It was a victory in the heart of this man. The battle was won, not lost. Didier won the fight against discouragement, despair and hopelessness. In the pain, he found the good. That's how all those around me keep at it with a smile on their faces. That's why those that have given up, show it in their countenance.  
With that said, I would call out to those that have reached the wall. The road may seem lonely and fearsome, but we are never alone and we need not fear. Listen to the voice that comes from deep within.  As Didier, so often we sacrifice so much and there are times when it seems as though it amounts to naught. That is the moment to dig in and find the light. Find the fortitude to resist the onslaught of despair.

So off we go, into the black, with nothing but an ethereal cord around our waist to tie us to reality. We were born to rise.