Reflection

The moment you stop, breathe, at the top of a mountain.
The moment you stop, see, out of a bus window.
The moment you stop, feel, the breeze at a cafe.
The moment you notice, the moment you Reflect.
I was skiing down the left hand side of Grande Monte in the Alps. The fluid, untouched powder, guided my skis down the slope. I noticed every detail of my decent, the trees that clothed the mountains ahead, the cliffs that dropped off to a sudden end, the cold air touching the sweat behind my ears, the strong grip I held every time I noticed my aloneness.
I was bivvying in the Italian Dolomites. We had found a clearing in the trees and made a fire to fall asleep next to. The remoteness accentuated every element of my surroundings. The tall trees formed a border for the sky, where the vivid stars glimmered down on to the cracks and splits from the fire beside me.
I was waiting at a bus stop in Allege, Italy. An eccentric looking old man stood near me. I observed him as I waited. His deep wrinkles that exaggerated his every facial expression, his ancient hat that seemed like it had become part of his head, his nike flip flops, a brand he was unlikely concerned by and the vague cigarette smoke that created a stale but mellow cloud around him.
All these experiences were amazing and intriguing but without moments of reflection, traveling is nothing but excitement and diversion.
The day I stopped and saw out of a bus window, was the day I reflected.
I saw the brutal granite mountains, encompassing the sky above me. A physical barrier, easy to surrender to. But the emotions behind the mountain are what I find hard to let win. No one else will know the mountains terrain, no one else will know if I do not reach the top, it is only myself who I will influence in failure. It is my enduring motivation, the persistent idea of giving up but constant fear of abandoning my ambition and the mental strength to ignore the physical boundaries that will get me to the top. Then, at completion, the timidness that surrounded me at the beginning, the apprehension that I may not be capable and the grinding repetitive thoughts the whole way up will disperse. Relief, joy, confusion encompass me as I realise my achievement. The feelings whose existence I doubted whilst climbing are real and finally I have the right to enjoy them.

That walk up a mountain would have always been an enjoyable challenge but these thoughts would have never existed had I not seen out of that bus window.