Up and down, left and right...

The mountains, like life itself, are neither kind nor cruel. The piles of stones and debris are evidence of constant change, of growth and decay. With my inner eye, I imagine myself already on the summit, the path seems clear, body and mind urge me upwards. And suddenly, a change in weather, a burst blister on my foot, or the rising fear. Every ascent carries the potential to reach the summit or not. Strong emotions arise - from pure enjoyment to paralyzing fear to boundless joy.

The ski edges don't grip and I slide towards the supposed abyss. The summit not reached. My hard-earned self-confidence collapses, like the masses of rock that once thundered down onto the glacier at Piz Kesch. The balance and the painstakingly learned patience thunder down the valley like an angry avalanche. The Canadians won't let me in and the Swedes slam the door in my face. My backpack was ready for adventures in the wide world, the salami packed, the maps studied, the ice axe sharpened. Angry, I throw my travel gear with the moldy sausage into the corner. Disappointment. Like the gleeful mountain, life challenges me once again to confront myself.

It will take some time before I can look back on what happened with a smile and proudly look down into the valley from the summit cross. Or as the postcard in my sister's house puts it: It's all just a phase.