Tie a Knot in it and Keep Climbing
The best Risk you can take is always the one you take on yourself
Tie a knot in it and keep climbing
By Travis Ray Patton
There was a person that went rock climbing alone. Their name or gender isn't important, but for the sake of simplicity we'll say "Kim". The rock formation Kim had in mind was an expressively treacherous and rugged one. It was filled with ridged edges and deep unexpected curves that would make even the most experienced climber become wary, and take every precaution necessary climbing it.
Kim had trained hard and had success with other difficult formations. Kim gathered what was needed, and was ready for the climb.
Up Kim went. Setting hook after hook Kim began the ascent. During the rocky climb, there were some slips, and slight cuts. The rocks were unforgiving and harsh against Kim's skin. At one point Kim debated if the right decision was made attempting to climb the formation. But Kim kept climbing.
Kim set one hook, then another. The rocks became sharper. Kim was at the halfway point. Kim set another hook just as before. As Kim started to ascend, the rope in the hook that held Kim up became snagged on one of the rock's sharp edges. Before Kim could react the rope broke from the other end of the rope above Kim. Kim was in danger of falling. Kim’s heart began to beat faster, and Kim pondered the precarious situation.
All of Kim's progress and life were now in danger. Kim chose this particular climb because of the pristine unspoiled mesas and remote location. And now it seems that this may come back to haunt Kim, because if something went wrong or there was a need for help there wasn’t a cell tower or service in the area for hundreds of miles. Thinking quickly, Kim remembered the difficult years of training, and the countless hours that were logged climbing with friends who had difficult climbs also. Kim reached out and grabbed the two ends of the rope and tied a knot in them. When the knot was securely in place, Kim continued the climb until the top was finally reached. Kim looked down at the jagged rocks below and breathed a heavy sigh of relief.
Moral of the story: Life can be difficult, hard, and harsh to scale. You will end up with scrapes and cuts. You don't have to stop when you get a scar, carry it with you to the top. It's not a badge of honor. It's a sign of the climb you had.
About the Creator
Travis Patton Sr.
I was born the the seventh of eight children, I learned early on a lot about overcoming life's difficult challenges. I have always believed that The best risk you can take, is always the one you take on yourself.
Keep reading
More stories from Travis Patton Sr. and writers in Motivation and other communities.
Speed Bumps Ain't Made for Stopin'
It was hot summer's day. The moment you stepped outside you could tell the sun was not particularly gracious to anyone who had the courage enough to brave the intolerable heat. The scorching rays of sunlight barreled down without any mercy. And along with it cane a Southern summer's heat. It was muggy, sticky, and humid. The kind of air that you can almost feel on your skin.
By Travis Patton Sr.5 years ago in Motivation
Lost but Trying
There are moments in life when everything feels lost—not dramatically, not loudly, but quietly. The kind of loss that settles into your bones and makes even simple breathing feel heavy. For Adam, that moment came on an ordinary Tuesday morning when he realized he had nowhere left to go. At twenty-seven, Adam wasn’t supposed to feel this tired. He wasn’t supposed to feel like life had already passed him by. Yet there he was, sitting on the edge of a narrow bed in a rented room, staring at peeling paint on the wall, wondering how everything had gone so wrong. He had once been full of plans. Big ones. Dreams of building something meaningful, of becoming someone his younger self would be proud of. But life, as it often does, had other ideas. Adam grew up in a small town where hope was common but opportunities were rare. His father worked long hours, his mother carried silent strength, and everyone believed that education would be the escape route. Adam believed it too. He studied hard, stayed out of trouble, and dreamed even harder. But dreams don’t always come with instructions. After college, rejection letters became his daily routine. Job interviews led to polite smiles and empty promises. “We’ll get back to you,” they said. Most never did. Slowly, confidence turned into doubt. Doubt turned into fear. And fear became a constant companion. When his father fell ill, Adam returned home. Medical bills piled up. Savings vanished. Dreams were postponed, then quietly buried. After his father’s death, the house felt too empty, too loud in its silence. Adam left again, this time not chasing dreams, but running from memories. The city welcomed him with indifference. He worked temporary jobs—delivery rider, warehouse helper, night security guard. None lasted long. Each job paid just enough to survive, never enough to grow. Failure followed him like a shadow, whispering reminders of what he hadn’t become. One night, after being laid off yet again, Adam walked aimlessly through the city streets. Neon lights blurred into streaks of color. Laughter spilled out of cafés he couldn’t afford. He felt invisible, like a background character in everyone else’s success story. That night, he considered giving up. Not dramatically. Not with a note or tears. Just a quiet decision to stop trying. To accept that some people were meant to struggle forever. He sat on a bench near a bus stop, head in his hands, when an old man sat beside him. “You look like someone who’s lost,” the man said gently. Adam didn’t reply. The old man continued, “Being lost isn’t the problem. Staying lost is.” Adam finally looked up. The man’s face was lined with age, but his eyes carried a calm confidence, the kind earned through survival. “I’ve tried,” Adam said bitterly. “Nothing works.” The man smiled softly. “Trying doesn’t guarantee success. It guarantees growth.” Adam wanted to argue, but something in the man’s voice stopped him. “I failed more times than I can count,” the old man added. “But each failure taught me something. Most people quit right before life changes.” The bus arrived. The old man stood up. “Don’t stop trying,” he said. “Even slow steps are steps forward.” Then he was gone. Adam sat there long after the bus left. For the first time in months, something shifted inside him—not hope exactly, but curiosity. What if stopping wasn’t the answer? What if trying, even imperfectly, still mattered? The next day, Adam did something small. He updated his resume. It wasn’t impressive, but it was honest. He applied for jobs he felt un for. He watched free online courses at night. He started writing—short thoughts, reflections, anything that helped him release the weight inside. Days turned into weeks. Rejections continued, but so did effort. One evening, Adam posted a short piece of writing online. He didn’t expect much. But comments came in. Strangers resonated with his words. Someone said, “This feels like my life.” Another wrote, “Thank you for putting my feelings into words.” For the first time, Adam felt seen. He kept writing. Months later, he landed a small content job—not glamorous, not permanent—but real. It paid little, but it paid consistently. More importantly, it gave him purpose. Life didn’t magically improve overnight. Problems didn’t disappear. Some days were still heavy. But Adam noticed something new: he no longer felt stuck. Trying had changed him. He learned that progress isn’t loud. It doesn’t announce itself. It arrives quietly, disguised as persistence. He learned that being lost doesn’t mean being broken. Sometimes it simply means you’re between versions of yourself. Years later, Adam would look back on that bench, that night, and that stranger. He would realize that the turning point wasn’t a job or success—it was a decision. A decision to keep trying, even when trying hurt. Because sometimes, the bravest thing you can do isn’t winning. It’s not quitting.
By Inayat khan2 days ago in Motivation
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.