Achieving the summit of the world's highest peak, defying falling ice, battling blizzards, and enduring the queue behind less experienced climbers as your oxygen supply dwindles – will it bring you happiness? Or is the prospect of tragedy equally likely?
While it might sound melodramatic, it's essential to contemplate these questions. Climbing Everest ranks among the most perilous activities many individuals will ever embark upon. Given that it is your life on the line, these considerations become all the more critical.
The statistics are telling – approximately 1% of those who reach the summit do not make it back. Is the reward of standing atop the world's tallest peak enough to bring you joy, perhaps even sheer euphoria?
Steve Bell, the author of 'Virgin on Insanity,' shared a thought with me before my first ascent of Everest. He explained the distinction between "before Everest" and "after Everest." It wasn't a conversation tinted with happiness or sadness; both of us are lifelong climbers and guides, understanding that climbing, in and of itself, brings joy. It was merely an acknowledgment that all who have scaled Everest come to understand – that your perception of the world changes after standing on its highest point.
But does this transformation include happiness?
Considering that modern thinking tends to equate happiness with outcomes surpassing expectations, does Everest, the world's highest mountain, indeed exceed these lofty anticipations? Or are expectations set so high that the aftermath pales in comparison – merely a goal accomplished that now requires replacement?
Is there a tinge of sorrow in realizing that you can never physically ascend higher?
The foundation for achieving happiness lies in recognizing your values and what matters most to you. As an Everest climber and guide, my perspective might be somewhat biased. Therefore, I turned to someone with a more comprehensive viewpoint – a person familiar with the mountains, far-flung locales worldwide, and, more importantly, the human psyche. Enter life coach and Ph.D. mathematician Jen McKeown, who took my musings and provided insights, which I shall expound upon below.
Climbing Everest necessitates contemplation of why you wish to undertake such an endeavor. Equally critical is what you are willing to sacrifice to reach that summit – be it family time, social interactions, income, or the comfort of a warm bed. And are you genuinely prepared to accept a significantly higher degree of risk than life typically demands?
Incorporate into this assessment how the Everest experience will contribute to your character and the values you cherish or aim to cultivate.
If you utter "family comes first" and "I'm climbing Everest" within the same breath, you might be deceiving yourself. If you're a committed, lifelong climber, you've likely answered this question long ago, whether consciously or subconsciously.
However, if Everest randomly popped into your head as the first mountain you wished to conquer, you might want to delve deeper into this motivation to scrutinize your intent.
Now, let's introduce a critical element into your pursuit of happiness – distractions and disruptions. This concept applies to the pursuit of happiness in any context, but on Everest, it has assumed a considerable role – let's term it 'the noise.'
'The noise' on Everest is currently a deluge of influences. There's a pervasive sense of overcrowding, with litter and human remains strewn about. Many climbers who aren't genuine climbers reach the summit thanks to good fortune and the skillful guidance of Sherpas, lacking the necessary expertise. Some are left standing in line to reach the peak. How unremarkable is that?
Depending on your perspective, 'the noise' could overshadow happiness. If your goal is to climb Everest for the sole purpose of boasting about it and impressing others, 'the clamor' may pose an obstacle. Others might not hold you in as high regard as you anticipate; they could believe that if you've done it, so could they, dismissing its significance. Furthermore, they might secretly view you as an elitist snob, possessing more money than wisdom, plagued by insecurity that drives you to embark on an ostensibly remarkable yet, in reality, unexceptional endeavor. You could shift from aspiring to be looked up to, to being looked down upon – a recipe far from happiness.
Two fundamental questions, answered honestly, provide clarity:
If your vision of happiness is an Instagram selfie from the mountain's summit, you fall into category two, which not only endangers yourself but others as well.
When guiding, the first and most crucial piece of information I seek from each team member is their motivation. This is because, when climbing becomes perilous and strenuous, as it invariably does, your motivation determines your response.
If the thought of traversing the icefall at dawn, front-pointing up the Lhotse face during an afternoon blizzard, foregoing sleep for a day, and setting out for the world's apex in darkness while cocooned in down and hidden beneath an oxygen mask fills you with exhilaration, then happiness awaits.
In the words of Jen McKeown, does Everest "set your soul on fire"? Or are you more likely to extinguish that flame for the sake of others or other motives?
If the actual process of scaling Everest ignites your soul, happiness will follow. 'The noise' will then seem less relevant."