Seek Your Mountain: A Journey of Self Discovery

Best-selling author, Neil Gaiman, has this philosophy that the thing he desires the most is considered “the mountain,” and that any decisions he had to make were predicated on the fact that they would either take him closer to the mountain, or they would become a detour of sorts, taking him further away. This was more true when he was younger, aspiring to be published, as it is quite safe to say that he stands atop his mountain.

I feel as though young people today feel compelled to have all the answers; to know what they want to do when they “grow up” or what major they should declare, or what career choice they must chain themselves to. And it seems that the idea, or even the very act, of changing one’s mind is not okay…that changing gears, or course correcting is blasphemous! 

Stay the course, young woman…power through it, young man. Yes, getting to what you want is often hard, requiring one to “power through it” or not give up. It requires fortitude and sacrifice. But sometimes we find ourselves powering through something we do not want to do; we’re wandering way off course from the mountain. Maybe we didn’t even realize where or what our mountain was until now. That’s okay! Circumstances change, dreams change, people change.

I’ve seen this with my oldest son. He’s twenty-two and thought that because he came from a long line of military service, that he was expected to go into the service. He tried the Marines and lasted a few weeks before realizing that hell no, that was not his world. He tried going to a tech school for aircraft mechanics and realized after two semesters, that that was not his thing. Now, he’s working at a Best Buy and trying to discover what he wants to do. What he wants to do…not what he thinks he is expected to do, or what everybody else wants him to do.

And that’s good. He had to stumble through the briars, metaphoric machete in hand, to find his path. And he’s searching…

I’ve experienced this myself. I knew in the fourth grade that I wanted to be an author. I wanted to be published and write for a living. I knew what my mountain was. 

And then life happened. I went into the Army and was a Platoon leader, jumping out of airplanes and leading soldiers. I came home and knocked around working a variety of jobs trying to earn a buck (house painting, grocery store, bakery, etc). A decade passed. I got married and started a family and found myself jumping into a career in electrical construction. Another decade passed.

I was always writing – through all of it, I wrote. But man, I had wandered way off course. Then one day I sat down and gazed out at that distant peak, and realized I was losing my dream. I was forsaking my mountain. I made a mid-life course correct that had several friends and family thinking me insane. I gave up a six-figure career to go back to school for my Masters and chock up some student loan debt. Then I went for my MFA and more debt. I started adjuncting at community colleges, earning a pittance of my previous salary. But I was back on track, closing on that mountain.

I wrote and I studied, and I moved up from community colleges to universities, from adjunct to associate professor. Everything I did was predicated on whether or not it would bring me closer to that mountain.

And now, I am proud to say that I have reached my mountain. I have almost thirty books out, or forthcoming, with traditional, top publishers. My books are in bookstores and libraries and children’s shelves. I do school visits, speak at conferences, and attend book festivals across the country. I listened to my fourth-grade self and made a conscious choice to be who I am, no matter how hard it was to recalibrate.

I’m not the only one who has made that seemingly impossible course correct, and I won’t be the last. I’m also not the only one who understands that this is something worth celebrating. Rowan University, in Glassboro, NJ, where I received my Master of Arts in Writing, and where I taught for some time, has created an annual award to recognize this. 

The Joe McGee Second Act Award is given each year to a graduate writing student with exceptional writing ability who is pursuing writing as a “second act” in their life after working/studying in another field.

So, if you find yourself not knowing what your mountain is, or where it lies, that’s okay. Keep discovering, keep looking. If your mountain changes…that’s okay. That’s fairly common. Roll up your map and forge that path. If the way seems insurmountable, it’s not. I was married, with three boys, a hefty mortgage, a solid career, and middle-aged. I found my way through.

Listen to yourself, be okay with not having all of the answers, allow yourself to alter course, and, above all, don’t let fear paralyze you.

Life is not a straight line through the jungle and everywhere there are tigers.

Blaze your path and seek ye, your mountain.