Phantoms of Fall
Monongahela National Forest, West Virginia, USA
Monongahela National Forest, West Virginia, USA
Fall 2022
I monopolized a smaller, isolated peak at along the North Fork Mountain Trail at Chimney Top. The view was less expansive than the true summit, but more alive, more energetic. It stood like an island close enough to civilization for peace of mind, yet far enough from civilization for a clear one.
I welcomed the two women who were brave enough to take up their own space whereas others wouldn’t dare impose on a stranger’s solidarity. I made small talk with one of them who had driven equally far as me for an equally absurd amount of time.
“I’m glad I’m not the only one crazy enough to drive 4 hours one way for a day hike,” she said.
Our short conversation revealed her true colors. She was someone who stood tall in the world, someone who followed her heart, even when reason tried to confiscate her dreams.
She was a woman who made life happen and didn’t let it pass her by. I wondered if she, too, had been told she was lucky instead of praised for creating life on her terms. In place of applause, did she get scoffed?
Too many times I’ve cringed at hearing a friend being name-called “lucky” in replace of honoring the effort and courage it took to make it happen.
Too many times I witnessed luck being used as a ruse to undermine another’s success.
I don’t like it, but I don’t necessarily blame it. It is merely an attempt to salve our own wounds of inferiority.
Deep down, on some buried level of awareness, we know that we are responsible for what we have achieved and what we haven’t. The unbearable feeling of guilt can be too much for us to feel and, so, we protect ourselves from it by hiding those memories of when we gave up on ourselves, forfeited discipline, and surrendered sovereignty.
Maybe we convinced ourselves that frivolity was a better suited path and let ourselves forget that which we once dreamed of and sought in the first place.
It could be that we allowed discouragement to take center stage as we listened to the critical, harsh tone of others who preached nothing but odes of impossibility and inevitable failure. We let that be the voice of authority in our lives, recoiling as we allowed that to be the deciding factor for what we choose to chase
If we choose to chase anything at all
Others, the so-called “lucky” ones, use that voice of doom as a battlecry to fuel their personal crusade. They blaze forward, unconcerned whether or not the path they’re on is the “right” one, even less concerned if it’s a trail at all.
These so-called “lucky” ones don’t shrink inward under a scrutinizing eye of dissuasion, but rather grow taller from it, emboldened by the audacity at others to attempt to control or influence their life.
What they have is spirit, heart, courage, and a whole lot of nerve to make life happen
No matter what
The way I see it, luck doesn’t exist. It is a concept more phantom than ghosts.
To me, life is nothing more, and nothing less than purely constituted of effort, action, and a few thousand courageous leaps of faith.
