The Mountains Made Me Feel Small – And I Needed That

I didn’t go to the mountains looking for answers.

I went because I needed space.
Real space.
The kind that doesn’t ask questions.

When you stand in front of mountains, something shifts.

Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Quietly.

You realize how little control you actually have.

And that’s not a bad thing.

I’ve spent years building, planning, fixing, improving.
Always pushing forward.
Always thinking five steps ahead.

The mountains didn’t care.

They didn’t rush me.
They didn’t reward effort.
They just existed.

That’s when I felt it.

Small.

Not insignificant.
Just correctly sized.

That feeling does something powerful to you.

It strips away noise.

• The pressure to perform
• The need to prove
• The illusion that everything depends on you

When you’re small in front of something massive, your problems shrink too.

Deadlines feel lighter.
Mistakes feel temporary.
Fear loses its edge.

I noticed how slowly everything moved.

Clouds didn’t hurry.
Shadows shifted on their own time.
The wind didn’t explain itself.

And for the first time in a while, neither did I.

You don’t need motivation in places like that.
You need humility.

Mountains teach that without words.

They remind you:

• You’re part of something bigger
• You don’t need to control everything
• Rest isn’t laziness
• Silence isn’t emptiness

I sat there doing nothing.

No phone.
No camera.
No agenda.

Just watching scale put things back in order.

That moment stayed with me long after I left.

Back in cities, I move faster again.
I plan.
I build.

But something changed.

Now when things feel overwhelming, I remember that feeling of being small.

And I ask myself:

What if this doesn’t need force?
What if I don’t need to win today?
What if slowing down is the work?

The mountains didn’t make me feel weak.

They made me honest.

And sometimes, that’s exactly what you need.