18 Steps

April 18, 2014

This picture is of a climber stepping across a bridge of aluminum ladders lashed together above a crevasse in the Khumbu Icefall — Mount Everest’s Death trap.

I close my eyes and imagine—climbing behind this man. I’m next in line. 18 steps away from the other side. With each step he takes, I feel both — relief for him and fear for myself. I strategize. One step at a time, slowly. Don’t stop to gaze down. Focus on moving ahead. Take your time. Grip the ropes. Trust.

He is done. Fear. Pure fear.

First step. The universe is watching me. All of me. Almost as if it had created this stage just to set me up. It’s show time.

Second step. Fear rings in every fiber of my existence. I realize there is so much fear that my body has decided to distribute the load. Rock shoulders. Unsure arms. And my most important gear — my legs — quivering, intensely.

Third step. It’s dizzying, and not due to the lack of oxygen.

Fourth step. It’s as if I unlearned how to walk. And here, of all the places on planet Earth, I decide to re-learn.

Fifth step. Progress. Focus. Think of the summit.

Sixth step. Stop. Blink.

Seventh step. I feel my weight. I feel it with all its force. The burden of my existence. Now resting on two aluminum rungs. I feel heavy. Very heavy. As if fear itself had weight. I try to lighten my pressure on the ladder. Like I am stealthily walking to the kitchen at midnight to steal a snack.

Eighth step. Step.

Ninth step. Halfway.

Tenth step. Deep Breath. Blink.

Eleventh Step. Ah. Hope. I want to stop and feel this moment. I want to look up and see the view. That peak on my right. The setting sun. No. Focus.

Twelfth Step. Too much saliva. Gulp.

Thirteenth Step. I feel lighter. I feel good about this.

Fourteenth Step. How bad could it be? The fall. I could sneak a peek. If not now, I will never. Quick glance? It’s like an internal conflict — an argument between my brain and heart. I am thinking. I need to walk. Just walk. Strategy. Remember. Alive. Stay alive.

Fifteenth Step. Almost there. Just a quick glace? Glance.

Sixteenth Step. Jaw clenches. I need to get out. NOW. GET OUT. WHO IS SCREAMING?

Seventeenth Step. Hurry. HURRY.

Eighteenth Step. RUN.

Fall. Scramble. Move away. Move further away. Move more. Get up and run away. Sigh.

Don’t look back. Gather your limbs. Relief. Walk.

18 steps. That’s the walk from my kitchen to my room. Or from my desk to the balcony. I do it all the time, without thinking. What if I felt the gravity of my living self with each step I took? What if I was aware of every cell in my body? Of how I breathe. How I move. How I blink. That. Is the force of life.

Take one step every day as if you were on that ladder. To feel alive.