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Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

There's a world out there, we wander it every day. There are mountains to climb, there are cracks to traverse, there are monsters that need defeating.

Everyone walks a different path, though we cross paths with others often and sometimes walk beside someone else. It's not uncommon to hear someone say, or even to voice yourself, the question: "How can someone fail to climb that mountain? It's so small." Or "How can someone fall through that crack? It's so tiny." Or even "How can someone fall to that monster? It's not that scary."

The trouble is, we lack perspective. From our perspective, the path may be littered with cracks that we can carefully step over, monsters that need a simple push to defeat, and mountains that only require an extra jacket and heavier boots for us to climb.

In someone else's shoes, those same mountians are frought with landslides and hail storms. The monsters refuse to fall. And the cracks, well the cracks are gaping chasms.

I came upon a crack once.

I was told about this crack for years. I was told that it was ridiculous that people could fall into this crack. I was told that there had to exist ways around it or over it. I was told that this crack is one that should be easily traversable.

It wasn't.

I approached the crack from an angle. I thought it was narrow. I thought I could jump across. I started calling out to see if there was anyone who knew a way across. With each call, the distance to the other side seemed farther away. With each call, all that returned were the echoes of others saying the same things.

I thought I found a bridge. I started to cross, but the bridge cracked beneath my feet and I plummeted into this gaping chasm.

From the bottom, I looked up and the sky, the path, the outside world all seemed so far away.

My phone began to buzz with messages. People were asking me why I had fallen. They wanted to know why this crack had defeated me. They wanted to know why I couldn't just jump across. Why I couldn't just climb out. Why I couldn't just...

I reached up for a handhold and felt it slip between my fingers. I stood up and tried again. I began to climb the slow and arduous path upwards, the only choice I had.

With every inch upward, I felt my grasp grow stronger, yet still, the rocks crumbled beneath my fingers.

I fell. I slipped. I landed flat on my back on ledges only part-way up from the bottom. I spent weeks working myself back up to places I'd been before.

All along, I never stopped calling out. I begged, I pleaded. I wished. I hoped. I heard echoes come back to me from others in the chasm, father down that I couldn't see, off to my left or my right.

I found a ladder, once. Pounded into the stone with five-foot iron stakes. I clung to it desperately and climbed as high as I could.

But then the ladder ended. I thought I'd be able to climb that ladder all the way out of the chasm, but once again I had been left alone.

Looking up, the sky seemed so close now, almost within reach.

And still the rocks crumbled beneath my fingers. I scrambled for any purchase, digging my toes into what felt like little more than wet dirt. I slipped. I fell. I got up and tried again.

The day finally came that I felt like I had pulled myself out of the chasm. Out of that great dark canyon that had done everything in its power to keep me down. Out of that horrible blackness that had left me all alone.

I reached up and felt grass. I pulled myself up with both hands. I rolled onto my back on the earth feeling softness and light for the first time in what felt like forever.

I left my eyes closed, just enjoying myself, reveling in the moment and the success of it all. I felt like I could do anything, like I had made it. I felt like from here on out my path would be easy, because if I had managed to climb out of that chasm, what could possibly stop me?

When I opened my eyes to look forward at the next step on my journey, I was greeted by clouds.

And hail.

And a cliff.

At the base of a mountain so tall that the peak was lost in the clouds.

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

There's a world out there, we wander it every day. There are mountains to climb, there are cracks to traverse, there are monsters that need defeating.

Everyone walks a different path, though we cross paths with others often and sometimes walk beside someone else. It's not uncommon to hear someone say, or even to voice yourself, the question: "How can someone fail to climb that mountain? It's so small." Or "How can someone fall through that crack? It's so tiny." Or even "How can someone fall to that monster? It's not that scary."

The trouble is, we lack perspective. From our perspective, the path may be littered with cracks that we can carefully step over, monsters that need a simple push to defeat, and mountains that only require an extra jacket and heavier boots for us to climb.

In someone else's shoes, those same mountians are frought with landslides and hail storms. The monsters refuse to fall. And the cracks, well the cracks are gaping chasms.

I came upon a crack once.

I was told about this crack for years. I was told that it was ridiculous that people could fall into this crack. I was told that there had to exist ways around it or over it. I was told that this crack is one that should be easily traversable.

It wasn't.

I approached the crack from an angle. I thought it was narrow. I thought I could jump across. I started calling out to see if there was anyone who knew a way across. With each call, the distance to the other side seemed farther away. With each call, all that returned were the echoes of others saying the same things.

I thought I found a bridge. I started to cross, but the bridge cracked beneath my feet and I plummeted into this gaping chasm.

From the bottom, I looked up and the sky, the path, the outside world all seemed so far away.

My phone began to buzz with messages. People were asking me why I had fallen. They wanted to know why this crack had defeated me. They wanted to know why I couldn't just jump across. Why I couldn't just climb out. Why I couldn't just...

I reached up for a handhold and felt it slip between my fingers. I stood up and tried again. I began to climb the slow and arduous path upwards, the only choice I had.

With every inch upward, I felt my grasp grow stronger, yet still, the rocks crumbled beneath my fingers.

I fell. I slipped. I landed flat on my back on ledges only part-way up from the bottom. I spent weeks working myself back up to places I'd been before.

All along, I never stopped calling out. I begged, I pleaded. I wished. I hoped. I heard echoes come back to me from others in the chasm, father down that I couldn't see, off to my left or my right.

I found a ladder, once. Pounded into the stone with five-foot iron stakes. I clung to it desperately and climbed as high as I could.

But then the ladder ended. I thought I'd be able to climb that ladder all the way out of the chasm, but once again I had been left alone.

Looking up, the sky seemed so close now, almost within reach.

And still the rocks crumbled beneath my fingers. I scrambled for any purchase, digging my toes into what felt like little more than wet dirt. I slipped. I fell. I got up and tried again.

The day finally came that I felt like I had pulled myself out of the chasm. Out of that great dark canyon that had done everything in its power to keep me down. Out of that horrible blackness that had left me all alone.

I reached up and felt grass. I pulled myself up with both hands. I rolled onto my back on the earth feeling softness and light for the first time in what felt like forever.

I left my eyes closed, just enjoying myself, reveling in the moment and the success of it all. I felt like I could do anything, like I had made it. I felt like from here on out my path would be easy, because if I had managed to climb out of that chasm, what could possibly stop me?

When I opened my eyes to look forward at the next step on my journey, I was greeted by clouds.

And hail.

And a cliff.

At the base of a mountain so tall that the peak was lost in the clouds.