Crest: (n) the highest part of a hill or mountain range; summit.
Somewhere between self-deception and self-motivation lies reality.
Of course, we’re no good when we’re lying about our well-being, pretending we’re something we’re not. We can become very obnoxious, making proclamations that slip away nearly as quickly as they’re spoken.
I think the problem may dwell in one area:
Life is not a mountain—it is a staircase.
If life were a mountain, we would continue to look above us and realize how much more we must accomplish, and honestly, become despaired with the task.
Here is why I believe life is a staircase:
About every ten steps of climbing, there’s a landing.
Take a minute. Catch your breath. Look where you’ve come from. Don’t wait until you get to the top.
I will decide where the crest is.
Every single day, I will determine the quality of my endeavor and the victory in my effort.
Mountain climbing is not only dangerous but offers very few plateaus for celebration.
I (and probably you, too) am human. We need many victories to motivate our continued climb. Without this, we can grow very weary in our well-doing, losing our grip on the rock above our heads, and fall to our failure, dashing our hopes on the rocks beneath.
Life is not a mountain. It is a staircase.
Unfortunately, it is not an escalator. That would be nice, wouldn’t it?