It’s not the mountain we conquer, but ourselves.
– Edmund Hillary
“I’ve been rich, and I’ve been poor. And rich is a lot better.” This often-repeated quote, whose origin is attributed to many, is usually spoken by a wealthy individual to motivate others toward similar riches. Or, more frequently, to help alleviate any guilt they might feel, or criticism paced upon them, about their money and the manner in which it was attained and/or sustained.
While there are ample arguments to be made if being rich does indeed provide people with a “better” life, for my purposes, for this column, it is word scaffolding for an allusive quote of my own:
I’ve been calm, and I’ve been anxious. And calm is a lot better.
I imagine there is little disagreement that tranquility is more beneficial to the human condition than prolonged stress. But just as being poor can serve as a springboard toward lasting wealth, being anxious, I believe, when fully felt and interpreted correctly, can serve as the foundation for lasting calm. The rub is that an optimistic viewpoint of anxiety usually comes after it is gone – when the head is clear and the body is free of emotional and physical pain. But while it is understandable to feel relief and renewed hope after enduring such an upsetting and unsettling time, there is often a pull to think deeply, i.e. obsess, about what happened in order to figure out a way for it not to happen again.
Unfortunately, a life without anxiety is not only unrealistic, it might be detrimental. Anxiety, dread it or not, is a core human emotion, put inside us for a reason, and evolutionary honed to help us survive. As French neuroanatomist Charles Letourneau explained, “Emotions are intimately linked with organic life.” To this end, occasional bouts of anxiety are natural and can even be productive, capturing our attention and stimulating us to make necessary changes to protect what we care about.
Frequent column contributor Jason Kurtz, a leading psychoanalyst in New York City, along with being a published author (Follow the Joy) and award winning playwright, contributes this about how anxiety can lead to positive transformation and transition.
Of course, we all want to feel good. All the time. We’d rather bask in pleasant feelings, eat good food, and hang out with friends than have to face difficult/unpleasant feelings and circumstances. No one invites traumatic experience, yet no one goes through life without having to deal with life’s difficulties. Fortunately, there is a silver lining to this, because we learn the most about ourselves from the difficulties we overcome. We never know our strength, until we have fought for something we wanted, or someone we cared about. We never know our courage, until we stand up to our bullies, or to our fears. We never know our compassion, until we are confronted with someone who needs our help. At each of these waypoints in life, we have the choice to strive to overcome our obstacles, outer and inner, or to succumb to them. Moreover, when we face and overcome these obstacles, it doesn’t so much reveal our character, as it creates it. It’s through striving and overcoming that we develop our strength/compassion/fortitude/patience. And as we develop these positive traits, we gain confidence in ourselves, which makes the next challenge a little easier, because we know what we have already overcome. In this way, we are even more prepared and confident to face the next of life’s challenges.
Jason’s wisdom, particularly about striving and overcoming, reminds me of a documentary film I recently watched on Netflix. It’s called The Alpinist, and it focuses on Marc-Andre Leclerc. As publicized, Leclerc is “bold but reclusive…a solo alpine climber who becomes a reluctant hero by scaling the most forbidding, frozen heights in the world.”
Leclerc, who tragically perished while on a climb in Alaska at the age of 26, is astonishingly refreshing throughout the film – shy and humble, pure and altruistic in his passion, and beyond talented at his craft. He is also inspiring, having to cope as a child and into adulthood with severe ADHD, which made traditional schooling a struggle, but propelled him to discover clarity and joy in the mountains. As described by Leclerc, climbing helps to quiet the “the squirrel in his brain,” the incredible focus and energy he needs to go vertical without a rope, at angles that would terrify Spider Man, serving as a natural Ritalin.
As I watched Leclerc climb in the film, and listened as he described why he takes on such dangerous challenges, I moved from the idea that he is someone who enjoys the risk – who lacks the normal fear mechanism in us all – to an individual who realized the risk was worth the risk. He did have fear, but he was more fearful of living a life without the freedom and elation he experienced while on a mountain. As such, Leclerc described how there are times, on a climb, when he is faced with an incredibly difficult path, when fear and doubt come rushing in and his brain speeds up, when he realizes if he doesn’t get it together, if he doesn’t overcome the moment, if he decides to give up rather than find that next good grip, then the chance he will fall and die is inevitable. There are scenes in the film where we see this, Leclerc suddenly stopping and looking ahead, seeking the internal fortitude to continue. But he always does move forward, always finds that solid hold, and always reaches the summit.
Leclerc says that while there is always a profound feeling of accomplishment, pride, happiness and awe and appreciation of nature as he looks out at the world from the top of a ridiculously high mountain, he also says that later, weeks or months after the moment, what sticks with him, what counts, is not that view, but the remembrance when he faced and overcame his fears, his doubts, his racing mind. That he says, is what ultimately matters, and what ultimately makes him who he is.
I write all this as a way of inspiring us all as we move forward through life. One might say, given the past few years of Covid and lockdowns, of political strife and division, of isolation and loneliness, that we have all been scaling a treacherous mountain. And more than likely, we have all experienced, or will experience, a particularly difficult patch that will require us to take stock of ourselves, to sum up our strength, and find that next grip.
I know you can do this. I know you can overcome anything. And I know, once you do, after your personal summit, that moment of fighting through and triumphing over indecision, darkness and despair, will be what you keep in your heart and soul, and which will allow you to reach the top again and again, no matter what challenge lies ahead.
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