Since I came to like hiking after I moved to Japan, I started to gain the habit of comparing any of my life journeys with the process of hiking a mountain. This could be anything across my journey of learning a new skill, my journey to successfully adapt to a totally foreign society, or even my journey to have a successful career. The process of hiking a mountain requires a lot of preparation. Before even starting to step on the trail head, one needs to ensure enough food and drink supplies, plan the desired route, be equipped with the required safety precautions, and most importantly, to have the fitness and the stamina. All these preparations require planning and training. It’s the same with any of our journeys in life. Some may already fail at this stage, before even getting to take their first step on the trail head.
When hiking a mountain, naturally most preparations will be associated with the journey of ascending the trail from the foot of the mountain to its peak. Very rarely do people talk about the descent journey, because reaching the peak is often seen as a symbol of success, even though in reality, we all know the journey is still not yet over. The perspective of life is often taken in the same approach. When I was younger, I thought having a university degree was the happy ending of a comfortable, successful life. But it was actually just another mountain peak. After that peak, I had to go through the whole demotivating descent cycle again and prepare for my next peaks in life. In reality, life is not as simple as hiking to a mountain peak, but rather the journey of ascent and descent from one peak to another, one local maximum to another local maximum, up until we reach a global maximum 1.
I have been in Japan for roughly seven years. When I first came to Japan, I had to start ascending again, even though I had already reached many local maximum peaks back in my home country. I had done this so many times, it should have been easy. Except it wasn’t - I had no plan. Japan is a completely foreign country, with a totally foreign language and very specific nuances in many aspects of its culture. Because of that, I was unable to prepare well for this journey. I didn’t know the route to the peak, I wasn’t mentally ready for the obstacles along the way, and most importantly, I wasn’t prepared for the descent journey. It felt like a blind expedition - or more accurately, like the survival journey of a lost soul in a forest.
I came to Japan to work, and I was promised something shiny if i reach the top of this local maximum. The problem was, I had no clarity in my own plans. Because of this, my journey was kind of clouded, and I couldn’t recognize whether I had reached the peak or was still hunting for it. The local maximum wasn’t clear to me, and without realizing it, I was already descending the mountain unprepared. I think I had already reached the peak of my career here in Japan three years ago, but I couldn’t recognize it. At that time, I should have been preparing for the descent. Instead, I kept moving forward finding my success. However, that peak was the end of this mountain - there was no other route to reach new peaks without first descending. Because of this, I slipped and fell, many times, crumbling like a novice mountaineer, and I injured myself.
Have you ever been hurt before? Sometimes to the point of bleeding, but sometimes it’s just bruises. The bruises hurt more, even though it doesn’t look painful. If you have dark skin, or wear enough cover, people can’t see that you’re suffering. The bruises slowly swell, and whenever they hit a wall or bump into others, they sting. But you can’t shout or ask for help, because you can’t show people that you’re in pain. There’s no proof of this pain to show, it can’t be seen. People don’t trust what they can’t see with their own eyes. The swelling eventually makes you feel cold and lonely. Nobody reaches out to help. They’re all busy ascending their own peaks. You keep falling in the descent, and while falling, you lose the energy to prepare for your next peak. That is roughly how it feels to fall from a local maximum, unprepared.