Ebony Escalona

I am the Mountain

I am the mountain.

I am the craigs and cliffs that I climb, not the career ladders up against unclean and uncared for windows that don’t always open to let you slide in and take a seat.

I’ve been climbing many ladders and helping others ascend their mountains but they weren’t for me. I knew this when my soles wore through and there were no replacements to be found.

My soul escaped in those moments through the holes that we had worn going too fast and not noticing the beauty that was all around us.

My mountain’s summit is far away and I may never reach it but that is not the point of this climb.

The view at every vantage point can be breathtaking. I mean utterly breath taking. I’ve only just realised when you stop there is wonderment everywhere.

The natural world is an ever-changing gallery of life’s work. The best attraction you will ever have the fortune of attending.

But tread lightly so not to spoil the view.

There are mighty obstacles on my ascent. Boulders to scale, snow to dig out, ice to pick and scrambles with so many hard to holds.

My fingers will blister.

But I no longer fear these microclimates as everything passes in the end.

And with each fearful traverse along a high raised rocky spine is a story to recount at a campfire and a skill to lean on again.

Another implement to add to my Swiss army knife that keeps my mind sharp and my heart open.

The adventure across our own mountain stops us getting stale.

I’d rather participate in life than own one.

You don’t need a compass on this journey

You can not rush to scale it.

You have to feel every painful stone in your shoe.

You won’t heal faster if you try to go faster.

I used to walk so quickly through life.

To. Get. Things. Done.

To move onto the next thing in case my worth ran out.

Like Cinderella as the clock struck 12.

What if people found out who I really am?

This mountain requires a slower pace.

To look up and out rather than assessing the time, speed and distance on some productivity app.

The real productivity comes from connection to the ground, feeling the changing terrain under my feet, smelling the scents of the season changes.

Knowing spring is here rather than being told it. The tingle of misty rain on my skin as it turns to hail that turns to sun that leaves you with a blotchy multi coloured view if you stare at it too long.

The pace is somewhere between a dance and scrambling hike. The music and paths never run out.

There is plenty of time to adjust your laces.

To sit on a rock for a while and watch whatever is in your line of sight, for there is always something to observe, notice and ponder upon.

Rest is as important as the climb.

The contagion of busy martyrdom won’t cut it on this ascent, it will just roll you down to base camp to start again.

I’ve been there in a discombobulated heap many times.

You can’t shortcut back to your place.

There is no chair lift.

And the added bonus is there will be spells of glorious walks with loved ones, somewhere in the mountain’s middle ground.

Neither craving a thing or averting from pain. Just two souls connected and congruent on their climbs. Sometimes in silence and sometimes in fits of giggles as they share a path or two.

I’ve found that overthinking gets in the way

So, walk with me

Feel the sun on your face with me

Find your path with me

Come and just be with me

I can be hard to hold too, like those rocks

But I soften with every listening ear, every need you share, every smile glanced and every handheld in mine.

Ebony Ellen