For too long have we heard our fellow seasonnaires, and sometimes ourselves, say such things as “I need to get a real job.” and “This isn’t real life!”
From time to time we even get told this by our clients and they often ask, “So how long will you do this for until you get back to reality?”
The idea that life in the mountains isn’t real is so far from the truth that you could use it in a politician’s speech. From a veteran Seasonnaires point of view there are three kinds of people:
People who work to live.
People who work to live often find themselves doing the same job for several years chasing a promotion that may not exist, easily and comfortably competing in the ‘Rat Race’.
People who live to work.
People who live to work will often love their line of work and work hard at it because they want to. They thrive on success and self improvement and they will tie their professional and personal lives together tightly to create a beautiful synergy.
People who work on living.
People who work on living have one thing in mind: Me. These people see life as a short, excitable ride which shouldn’t be wasted and they throw themselves at any opportunity that presents adventure and change.
Take person number 1, during a winter season they start to become person number 2 and when it’s all over they are closing in on person number 3. Something magical happens in the mountains which changes your perspective on life. Whether it be the people you meet, the beer your drink or the lines you take down the powder fields, it seems to alter your reality. The world starts to seem smaller and places that once seemed too far away are now within an easy reach. Opportunities you thought were too dangerous or scary are now the only thing you’ll consider taking. The idea of wearing a suit to an office compared to a ski jacket and snowshoes to a luxury Chalet seems insane and you soon start planning the rest of your new, exciting life as a world travelling, open-minded, exciting person.
Transport yourself through time to when you’re old, sitting in your floating Apple iChair in front of two generations of your family. What do you want to tell them? How can you justify telling your grandkids to ‘live their lives to the fullest’ if you don’t truly believe you did so yourself? You should tell stories of how you got the runs in India after drinking snake blood and when you danced with the Mbuti Tribe under the stars in the central African rain forests. Or would you rather tell them about the time Phil spilt coffee of your logistics report 3 hours before you had to hand it in?