December 28, Bursa.
Tried to take a picture of myself skiing for the first time, but I literally couldn’t. It wasn’t the cold, it was the falls. I was broken, aching and too tired to keep standing up again and again to catch up to my friends.
It didn’t bother me that I couldn’t reach down hill. Nor did it bother me I was struggling and alone. Laying down was when I felt the cold tiny snow crisps kissing my cheeks.
Laying down was when I can look upwards; and notice how the snow was weighing down the leaves, yet the branches still stood strong and the trees stood high. I saw how the clouds hugged the mountains and both blending into a white nothingness. I couldn’t have seen this beauty and inspiration from nature if I wasn’t on the ground, too broken to stand up again.
We keep trying to win a race we aren’t supposed to compete in, we keep trying to catch-up to others who have different paths. We fail, we ignore the red flags that lead to all those dangerous slopes, just because we want things that aren’t supposed to be for us, to work out, because it’s “faster”. But we all have different paths, different races. How can we enjoy life if we don’t push over the moments we were left alone in the cold? How can we enjoy life if we try to race a race that isn’t ours? No one can save you except yourself, there might be some helpers for a while, but you are the one who pulls yourself up.