About a week ago I went to a place called Dalhousie to climb the infamous Adam's Peak. The climb consists of 5800 stairs. We woke up at about 2AM and started the trek, hoping to arrive at the peak by sunrise. It is a treacherous climb. The pathway is pitch black, foggy, and infested with leaches. The stairs get extremely steep, especially near the top, and the wind is very cold and very strong. About halfway up, my friend decided to turn back. But I was under the impression that once I reached the top, all of my hard work would be rewarded with a gorgeous view of the sun rising over the hills and nearby lake. So I kept on. A few minutes after Kate turned back, I caught up with a couple of guys from Slovenia. The three of us huffed and puffed our way up the last half and arrived at the top an hour and a half before sunrise. It was only slightly above freezing at the top and the wind felt like it would tear my skin right off my bones. We found a little alcove where the force of the wind was slightly lessened and we waited.
As time progressed, more and more people arrived at the top. Eventually, the two Slovenians, three Brits and I decided to move to a little hallway we figured might give us slightly more of a reprieve from the wind pelting us with icy rain drops. The six of us hung out in that hallway for the next hour keeping each other warm with liquor and huddles. We shared stories of our travels and joked about our dire circumstances.
Eventually, the time came for sunrise. We zipped and hooded up, and left our little hallway braving the cold for the spectacular sunrise we were sure to see. Well... We saw nothing. It was too foggy to even tell where the sun was supposed to be. Our spectacular sunrise ended up being the sky gradually, uniformly lightening while the wind tore at our clothes and faces.
When I realized we weren't going to see anything, I had two choices. I could allow the dread that I could feel at the peripheries of my mind to take over. I could let my heart sink. I could allow disappointment to take over and leave a sour stain on everything I had so far experienced that day.
Or, I could be thankful for the experience that I had and enjoy it for exactly what it was.
My first instinct was to be disappointed. We had come all this way, climbed all these stairs just for the view! I wanted the view! But as I felt my previous good mood melting away, I decided to take a step back and try the second option.
The past two hours had been amazing! I had managed to keep climbing even when my muscles were screaming at me to stop. I had conquered 5800 stairs before the sun was even up. I had laughed and shared stories with people I otherwise would never have met and bonded with these same people as we huddled together to keep each other warm in the cocoon of blue fog that was stealing our sunrise. I may not have seen the view I came for, but I had a great morning. It wasn't what I expected, but should that make it any less positive?
Expectation is the root of disappointment. Expecting things to work out a certain way can often blind us from seeing the good in the way they do work out in reality. I'm learning to let go of expectation and be present. Suddenly, life seems so much sweeter.
As time progressed, more and more people arrived at the top. Eventually, the two Slovenians, three Brits and I decided to move to a little hallway we figured might give us slightly more of a reprieve from the wind pelting us with icy rain drops. The six of us hung out in that hallway for the next hour keeping each other warm with liquor and huddles. We shared stories of our travels and joked about our dire circumstances.
Eventually, the time came for sunrise. We zipped and hooded up, and left our little hallway braving the cold for the spectacular sunrise we were sure to see. Well... We saw nothing. It was too foggy to even tell where the sun was supposed to be. Our spectacular sunrise ended up being the sky gradually, uniformly lightening while the wind tore at our clothes and faces.
When I realized we weren't going to see anything, I had two choices. I could allow the dread that I could feel at the peripheries of my mind to take over. I could let my heart sink. I could allow disappointment to take over and leave a sour stain on everything I had so far experienced that day.
Or, I could be thankful for the experience that I had and enjoy it for exactly what it was.
My first instinct was to be disappointed. We had come all this way, climbed all these stairs just for the view! I wanted the view! But as I felt my previous good mood melting away, I decided to take a step back and try the second option.
The past two hours had been amazing! I had managed to keep climbing even when my muscles were screaming at me to stop. I had conquered 5800 stairs before the sun was even up. I had laughed and shared stories with people I otherwise would never have met and bonded with these same people as we huddled together to keep each other warm in the cocoon of blue fog that was stealing our sunrise. I may not have seen the view I came for, but I had a great morning. It wasn't what I expected, but should that make it any less positive?
Expectation is the root of disappointment. Expecting things to work out a certain way can often blind us from seeing the good in the way they do work out in reality. I'm learning to let go of expectation and be present. Suddenly, life seems so much sweeter.
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