Climbing someone else’s peak

Most people are not failures. They are simply climbing someone else’s peak.

Once, there were a bunch of us.
We stood on the same path, looking toward the same mountain, same peak, moving toward the same goal - or so we thought.
We probably didn’t know exactly which route we were going to take, but we knew this: we were going together.

Today we are one less.
She left - or perhaps we did… but that no longer matters. What matters is that this is how the team dissolved - the team that others once envied.

The missing one wanted to climb a higher peak. And not just a higher one, but someone else’s.

This story came back to me when I read a quote attributed to Miyamoto Musashi: “There is more than one path to the top of the mountain.”

When I read it, I immediately began to analyse it: the mountain peak, more than one path. I don’t know - my mind is wired this way. I feel the need to break everything down, deconstruct it, and rearrange it in my head, attach meanings according to my experiences.

So, what is a mountain peak, really?

If you scroll through the internet and social media, it’s almost impossible not to think - if you don’t already - that a “peak” means success. And that success is presented in a strangely standardised way: money, cars, enormous houses where months can pass without ever entering every room.

For me, a peak is different. It is the place where you use your abilities to their fullest. Where you find and become yourself. Where you find things you never grow tired of doing - the kind that doesn’t require recovery from, the kind that doesn’t make your face tighten or your eyes roll when you remember you have to do it.

In my understanding, there are many peaks, and each person has their own. Yet often, precisely because people cannot find their own peak, they reach for someone else’s.

But when you cannot see your own peak and aim for another’s, you lose not only your path - you lose yourself. And that path is narrow. Others are already moving on it. It is neither comfortable nor safe.

We see the results of others - status, recognition, money, influence - and assume the path that led them there is universal.
We believe that if we run in the same direction, we will reach the same height.

But a peak is not merely height. It is alignment. Alignment with yourself - with your values, your abilities, your pace, your character. When you step onto someone else’s path, two things happen.

First, competition begins where there were once companions. The people who once stood beside you suddenly become obstacles.

Second, motivation changes. You no longer climb because you enjoy the ascent or truly want it. You climb so you won’t fall behind. You enter a race you are destined to lose in the long run. Not because you cannot reach the top - but because once you do, you will discover you are standing on someone else’s peak, looking at an entirely different view.

This difference is almost invisible at the beginning. But the closer you get to someone else’s peak, the clearer the picture becomes.

She moved fast. She overtook everyone. She ran across everyone’s path. Some she tripped, some she turned her back on.

Climbing always has a price. And someone else’s peak is often the most expensive of all. The price is relationships that turn into instruments along the way. Trust replaced by competition. Peace of mind lost in constant comparison. Your own voice drowned out in the echo of someone else’s success.

You may reach the height, but if in order to get there you lose the people you started the journey with - and the values that gave meaning to your steps - then the peak becomes merely a point, not an achievement.

Today she stands there. High - but alone. Someone else’s peak turned out to be too high. And when the height does not align with your inner measure, loneliness becomes inevitable.

Everyone has their own peak. But finding it is difficult. Because once we begin comparing, our own path often seems less impressive, less loud, less fast. Your path usually looks impassable at first, while someone else’s is already paved. The results are visible. The applause is audible.

What matters is to recognise your own peak and follow its path — unpaved, raw, unfamiliar yet somehow known.

And which path are you standing on now? The one you need to climb?
Or the one where you simply don’t want to fall behind?

And in the end, the hardest choice is not between heights -but between alignment. Lower, but yours.
Or higher, but someone else’s. Which one do you choose?