It was then that I climbed the mountain. A real honest to God mountain. From the first moment I saw her it was love. Now climbing a mountain would be enough to write an entry about - but it was the ritual that made this so special.
The night before I sat in the freezing cold in front of a camp fire, with another 12WBTer RuthP, writing our lists. It began as a list of ways I had let the weight hold me down. But as I keep discovering on this journey, the list became something much greater.
It turned into a list of letting go; old wounds, old concepts of myself. Things that I didn't realise I was carrying around ended up on that list.
Once we4 had finished our lists we read them in silence and then... we burned those suckers. We then collected the ashes. Ruth made a comment about how light and insignificant our lists had become. This other weight we had been carrying around for so long had been reduced to something so incredibly small.
The Climb and a a new day
At 3am we met the other 12WBTers (and my very reluctant sister) to begin the climb. It was cold. It was dark. I had the Flu. I am not going to write about the climb itself, that's something between me and the mountain.
But that first line of light that spread itself along the horizon was spectacular and each moment between then and seeing the new day in it's entirety was simply stunning.
As the new day dawned Ruth and I released our list to the mountain. She is now carrying those burdens for us.
I had said initially that I would write a new list when I was up there, a list of who am now and who I am becoming; but I realised something, I don't want a list of who I am because I'm enjoying the fact that I keep surprising myself along the way.
We walked down the mountain into our new day.