Making Peace With The Mountain

Written by Barbara

Skiing has been a favorite past time of mine for a while, but the first time on the slopes was quite an adventure. With no experience at the age of nine, I took the chairlift to the top - a Black Diamond. This was most definitely not intentional, as I had no idea what Black Diamond meant. For those non-skiers, it is the most challenging trail a skier can take.

On this trip, I was with family, and many of them already knew how to ski. As I reached the top of the mountain, what felt like an hour later (it was definitely not), I felt a tinge of fear in my gut about the excitement of being on the mountaintop. The beauty of the snow and slopes made me giddy, yet the confusion of how to get off the ski slope quickly took away my giddiness. As the chairlift approached the top, I hoped the lift operator would not notice I had no intention to ski off and would let me ‘ride’ back down the mountain. High hopes crushed, as you may have guessed. With a jolt, the chair lift stopped and I hobbled and wobbled my way off. 

And there started my complicated relationship with skiing. I love the outdoors, I love the winter, I love the wind, I love the cold, I love the idea of skiing. Yet somehow that experience framed the 40+ years of skiing to follow - which included a fear of speed, steep mountain descents, and a lack of trust.

What lies ahead. Ah, those are powerful words. No-one ever really knows. In this situation, beautiful scenery, big and small hills, plus the fear in my gut were what lay ahead. I had no idea how to get down the mountain. Part of the time, I moved down with one ski gliding next to the other, sometimes it worked, sometimes I fell, sometimes I went too fast and intentionally fell. At one point, I lost one ski that my cousin John rescued as it slid down the wrong side of the mountain. Part of the time I slid down the mountain on my butt. There are more of these faded, less specific mountain memories that come to mind, but you get the point. After what felt like a few hours (don’t know if it was or not), and after seeing my proficient skiing cousins pass me a few times on the slopes, I eventually made my way down the mountain, doing whatever it took to get me down.

But even after all these years, I continue to ski. Every single time I find myself at the top of the ski slopes, an element of fear returns to my gut (and the key word here is ‘ski’ [slopes]; had I had this same fear on hikes, my Mt. Rainier adventure would never have happened, but that’s another blog for another time that I’ll title ‘one step at a time’). Okay back to the topic on hand - perhaps the fear is from not knowing what lies ahead. Even though I knew I would eventually make it down the first time I skied!

I have taken ski lessons, I have skied on bunny slopes, I have skied on every level Diamond (shiny, crooked, hard 😅), yes even Black, and still some fear remained in my gut. Although in more recent past years, once atop the ski mountain, I found a mantra, some words and thoughts, simply put - to make peace with the mountain. I look out at the mountain and make peace, and yes it is peace with the mountain, but it also peace within myself. On the first runs, I cautiously go down the mountain, building a level of confidence that makes the feeling in my gut slowly go away. 

This past February, I again found myself on the mountain at Stowe in Vermont. As I got up to the top of Toll Road, Blue Trail 😉, I made peace with the mountain before I began my descent down my favorite trail. But something different happened this time. I have certainly improved my skiing ability over the years, but for the first time, I was not afraid to ski. So much stuff happens in every day life unexpectedly like last October slipping in the tub and having serious dental issue (Hangover Movie quality - and no I was not drinking!) or falling down stairs and messing up my elbow (not good for a Yoga teacher). As my poles and skis swished through the powdery snow skiing that day, I thought, we don’t walk around every day in fear so why should I do that on the ski mountain, particularly when I knew what was coming ahead. I could feel myself skiing a bit faster that day. The fear of speed, the fear of the steepness, the fear of the what? Trust? It disappeared. I reminded myself in this situation, I know what lies ahead. I know how to get down a ski mountain. I trust myself.

So I let the peace with the mountain surround me, and allowed myself to really let all that unnecessary fear go. And this time, I felt not only peace with the mountain, but also with myself. This past February I did the best skiing of my life. 

In everyday life, we don’t know what lies ahead, no-one does. Stuff is always going to happen. Stuff is always happening. If we let fear take over, like it did for so long on the ski mountain for me, we lose something. In this case more enjoyment, the opportunity to become a better skier, the trust in ourselves. It took me a long time to get to this level of skiing comfort, but I don’t think the timeline matters, what does matter is how we get there. What matters is how we find our own mountain peace, whatever that may mean for you.

Six months ago, we did not know the world would be in such a state of affairs. In these trying times, evidence around us is already showing who has made peace with their mountain. As we go forward, continue to make peace with your mountain, whatever that may be, even if it is just for today. I do believe that if we let go of the fear of not knowing, we will find more trust in ourselves and in the world around us. And surely the peace will follow.

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And because laughter is as important to me as making peace with my mountain(s) - to all my long-time friends who are reading this - do you think it is a coincidence that my first ever crush 😏 heartthrob had the word ‘ski’ in his last name! Ponder that one if you dare! Namaste!