Still Climbing

There's a lean in you. A part already tilted toward the next thing — reaching for what comes next before this one has finished arriving. It's carried you a long way. It's the posture of someone who keeps going.
This is a practice for that part. For the one who climbs because there's always more up, and doesn't know how to stop — because stopping has always felt like failing.
You'll climb, the way you do. And then the climb will run out. The ground goes level; there's no more up; everything has reached the top of itself and gone still. So you stop. Not because you chose to — because there's nothing left to climb.
And then you look down. At what's been with you the whole way, the thing you kept a step ahead of. It didn't catch you in the cold. It waited for the warmth, and the height, and the quiet — for the first place high enough to hold it.
You didn't fail by stopping. You're allowed to be here.
One question, when the climbing ends: what did you climb to stay ahead of?

Transcript

Before anything else. Notice whether there's a lean in you. A part already tilted forward. Toward the next thing. The thing after this. Even now. Settled as you are. Something in you may be angled ahead of itself. Reaching for what comes next before this has finished arriving Don't correct it. Just notice it's there. Let your eyes close now, If they haven't already. The lean can stay. You don't have to put it down. That lean has carried you a long way. Longer than this. Is the posture of someone who keeps going. Who gets on. Who stays a step ahead. Breathe in. . . Let the breath go all the way down. Past the lean. Underneath it. And now. Again, Inhale. And out. And let that out breath run longer than you need it to. Let the ground arrive under you. You are on a slope. You have been climbing it. You don't remember starting. Only that you've been going up a long time. And that going up. Has been the whole point. Don't decide what it looks like Let it come. What's underfoot on this climb. Rock Worn dirt. A path others have used. Or one you cut yourself? It rises ahead of you. It always has. That's what made it worth doing. There is always more of it. More up. Higher to get. The next rise. And the one after that. Feel the work of it in your legs the familiar burn of someone who has climbed so long. The climbing has become how they stand. The light is high here. Hard and clear. It's been climbing the whole way up, Just ahead of you. Keep going. One more rise. The ground tilts up under your foot. And then it doesn't. You take the next step expecting the climb. And the ground is level. Flat under your feet. You look for where the path goes up from here. It doesn't go up. There is no more up. You have reached the top of it. And the light. Look. The light has stopped climbing too. It's gone as high as it goes poised there. The very top of itself. Not rising. Not yet falling. Everything here has reached the top of itself and gone still. So you stop. Not because you choose to. Because there's nothing left to climb. The lean has nothing to lean towards. For the first time in longer than you can remember. You are standing still. Stay here. Standing. At the top in the high clear light. And now. . . Look down. At your feet, There's a shadow. Small. Gathered close, Pooled right beneath you. It's been with you the whole climb. But it was always behind you. Are stretched ahead. Somewhere you weren't looking. Somewhere he could keep a step in front of There's no more up. You stopped. And it came to rest right where you are standing. You don't have to move it. Or name it. Let it be there. At your feet. In the light. What did you climb to stay ahead of? It didn't catch you in the cold. Not at the bottom. Not in the early dark. Back when you were finding the path. Not on the hardest part of the climb. It let you pass through all of that. Awaited. And it came up here. At the top. In the warmth. In the highest light there is. This is the first place high enough. Warm enough. And quiet enough to hold it. You didn't fail by stopping. You are allowed to be here. Stay as long as you want. In a while, The light will begin to come down. Not yet. But it will. It always does. After the top. It tips. And starts the long, Slow way back down. On its own. Without your help. There's no climbing down from here. The way back is only letting the place loosen around you. What was at your feet comes with you Beside you now, Not behind. Let the room begin to come back. The surface under you. The air. The sound of the space you are in. Breathe in And out. Who climbed a long way to get still. When you are ready And only then. Let your eyes open.