I grew up about 20 miles from Mexico, if you were to measure from my house on Yucca Drive to where Mexico begins. But in order to get there legitimately, it would take about 35 minutes by car, and require routing through the border town of Naco.
I had a large mountain range, the Huachucas, separating me from a completely different world. I never felt as though I was missing out on anything in my small town. As though those mountains were a metaphor for holding me back and keeping me sheltered.
No. Instead... They were a metaphor for the ascension the up and beyond that I knew would come eventually.
They represented time and movement forward.
It was never a matter of "if" I'd use those mountains to entice me up to the new experience. It was a matter of when. Time. How long would it take?
But it didn't take long. My curious nature racing to say, "And what next?" Getting past those mountains through patience and steady progress prepared me for the repetitive cycle that was to become my life...
- Envision the path.
- Start the path with small steps.
- Accelerate the path through hard but precise work.
- Get side-tracked by ego, momentarily.
- Finish the path.
Not every path took me to where my daydreams mused. But it took me somewhere. And I be optimistic that it will do this again. And again.
I learned to use mountains to ascend me to something new at a very young age. And I could not be more grateful for the experience.