An Island

On our honeymoon in France, Pete and I were awestruck by Mont St. Michel - a beautiful island and a mountain.

Someone once told me that I am an island.

I did not give it much thought until last night when I randomly flipped open a page of The Right Mountain - Lessons from Everest on the Real Meaning of Success and I read a paragraph that seemed to stick right out:

"' Seriously, what are my chances of going to Everest?'

'Possible, just possible. But only if you are willing to commit to a training program.'

Commit sounded like a threat. I asked him what he meant.

'It means e have nine months before the team leaves and I'll need you at The Fitness Institute two hours a night, four nights a week, and eight to ten hours each day on the weekend. I'll need you without fail. You need to go full tilt, under the leadership of a trainer. You'll do everything he or she says, extending yourself all the time. Your body will scream and your mind will bend, but you can't ease off one bit. You have to give more every time you feel you've reached the end. You can't complain. Not even once. Not even silently. ... That's what I mean by commit.'

...

But, I soon realized it wasn't just me that was going to have to commit. Everyone else who was a part of my life would have to commit as well. If they couldn't understand why, I couldn't be with them."

These few paragraphs reminded me of the "you are an island" comment and, yes I am an island. Those who commit to big goals must become one in order to achieve the goal.

Thank you to my huband, my family and all my friends and clients who understand.

To all the other islands out there, you may have occasional vistors, you may find yourself a tourism hot spot or you may be completely desserted and undiscovered - no matter what the state, remember what it means to commit. People, things, events come and go - good or bad or degrees of both - but the island remains intact.

K