Yesterday my boyfriend and I decided to go and climb Moel Famau in North Wales. Being I, the daughter of a professor in geography, and he a student of geology, one would have thought a hill such as Moel famau, with a car park at the bottom and sign posted routes up and down, shouldn’t present too much of a challenge. I ask you to think again.
We achieved the climb within no time at all, but were not rewarded with a view due to the dense cloud cover which had become thicker. There was something magical about standing at the top, surrounded by cloud with nothing to be seen except one another, the monument and cloud. The magic for me came in knowing how much there was around us, how much beauty, and how much extent to the horizon; and yet we were enveloped in such thick cloud nothing was to be seen. There was a silence as well. Not a complete silence, for we could hear the cloud and the mist whistling around the peak; yet nothing else was to be heard. We knew not north, nor south. We could not tell the direction we had come from, nor the direction down. But we knew the path was there.
Walking into the cloud, we laughed as we heard voices around us; other walkers also exploring through the mist. As we walked, a style would appear in front of us, then a sign post, then a turn in the path. At a turning point where there were two paths we realised we had no idea which way we should be going. We did not know where to go, we could not see where we were in relation to where we should be and the GPS on my phone told us that it ‘could not find location’. We were lost. Laughing, we picked a path and set off. As we walked, the cloud wrapped around us; sometimes allowing us to see a couple of metres in front, sometimes barely a foot and yet without fail, signs would appear, styles would emerge, the path would widen. By the time we eventually found the car again several hours later, the cloud had lifted, we could see around us, we could see where we had come from, and where we were driving to.
During the 6 years I was ill, there were times when I could not see. When I was so emotionally stuck and in so much pain I did not know what to do. I didn’t know where to go, I didn’t know how to get to where I wanted to be. I couldn’t see where I wanted to be, I could visualise it in my head, but I couldn’t see it. I couldn’t see how to get all the way there. But what I could see every time, was a very small thing which could make a little bit of difference. A piece of dairy milk to taste, 5 minutes to cut off the obsessive morning power walk, one more traumatic memory to relive and work through. And with every small step I took, the next step would suddenly become visible when it hadn’t before. And then the next, and then the next. Until finally, I am living the dream I had but could not see.
Life is sometimes black. Sometimes we feel lost, we cannot see the way forward, only the way we have come. And every time it is so tempting to take that route we have just travelled because it is the only one we know and the only one we can see. We are scared of the way forward because we do not know it and we cannot see it. But turning round will never get you to where you want to go. Always take that step forwards, because even if it is not visible now, the way will emerge. The cloud will lift, and life will become light again.
Never give up, never turn around. Even if you feel like you are blind and the world is black. I didn’t know what the future held, I didn’t know how to recover. But I didn’t want more starvation. I didn’t want more black. So one step every day brought me slowly out of the clouds. And I did reach what I was aiming for.
However thick the cloud, you’ll always find the way because you know the way is there. And if you keep the people you love close, anything is possible.
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