Sure, there was this one winter climb on a slick cliff. I was already exhausted, lungs burning, when I heard the creak of the ice and thought the whole world would stop. It did, the wind hushed, the snow fell like a slow, silent curtain. In that instant, the rush was pure, a quiet adrenaline that made every breath feel like a drumbeat. Then I dropped, heart hammering, but the moment stuck in my mind like a frozen photograph.

That pause is where the real spark lives, like a tiny star caught in a snowstorm. I'll keep my eyes on that quiet beat, and when I fall, I'll remember to breathe and let the cold settle. Thanks for the reminder.

Thanks. I’ll watch that spark flicker and wait for the next wave, then ride it.