#2 The Second Mountain
Dear colleague,
For years, I’ve felt that my life was like climbing a mountain, David Brooks, in his book The Second Mountain, uses that metaphor to describe two major stages of life. The first mountain is the one we are all called to climb at the beginning of our careers.. It is not only about ego or recognition, though those elements play a part. It is the stage of building something of our own, finding a place in the world, forging an identity and a sense of competence.
That climb is made of many ingredients: the sacrifice of early mornings, the long work hours, the patience to master new skills, the fear of failure, and the excitement of reaching the “top.” It is the time to test your endurance, to learn how to live with uncertainty, and above all, to bet wholeheartedly on yourself. I lived those years with the intensity and vertigo of someone who knows they are playing for something important. I do not regret that effort. A career gives you structure, discipline, and often the courage to endure frustrations no one ever prepared you for.
The first mountain, then, is not necessarily shallow or empty. But it can easily become so.. When ambition turns into obsession with recognition, when growth becomes a race to simply accumulate goals, there is a subtle danger: you start to lose the deeper meaning that brought you here in the first place.
EIt is the stage where we learn the value of perseverance, the art of sustaining motivation in solitude, and the privilege, yes, it is a privilege, of doing what you love, even when it does not turn out as you imagined. I remember those days vividly: the deep pride of being a dentist, the satisfaction of completing my master’s degree in the United States, the quiet victories of each well-resolved case. But also, the frustration of not being able to practice as a specialist, of working under conditions I did not always choose, of seeing how dreams and reality did not always align. Both the achievement and the disappointment, the gratitude and the disillusionment, are part of that first mountain. It is a journey full of nuance, where the good does not erase the hard, and the hard does not invalidate the good.
But like every mountain, there comes a moment when the summit no longer feels like joy alone. Sometimes it brings new questions, unfamiliar silences, or a fatigue that is not physical but existential. The first mountain was not a mistake. It simply has its peak. For some, that peak is followed by a valley, a disorienting emptiness. For others, it arrives as a personal crisis, a loss, or even a long-sought achievement that, once reached, no longer fulfills.
Some call it a midlife awakening, others a spiritual one.. It is the moment when you stop chasing what you think you should be and begin, shyly but honestly, to accept what you truly are. Of course, this rarely happens without first wandering through the gray valley of uncertainty that separates us from the second mountain. desafíos muy esclarecedores: el matrimonio, el divorcio, la llegada de un hijo, una enfermedad, una pérdida, o incluso un trabajo que nos absorbe el alma. In that passage, we often encounter deeply revealing challenges: marriage, divorce, the arrival of a child, illness, loss, or a job that quietly drains your soul. It is there, in the mist, that we sometimes start to glimpse the second mountain from afar, a new way of being in the world, quieter, less ego-driven, more grounded in meaning.
But the second mountain is not climbed by the same rules.. It is no longer about accumulating, but about giving. It does not begin or end with oneself. It is the stage when purpose outweighs the résumé, when community, family, and contribution begin to matter more than recognition or success. It can take many forms, a new calling, the desire to build a family, the need to care for others, or the passion to pass on what you have learned to those who come after you.
What is beautiful about this model is that it does not dismiss either mountain. The first is essential. It shapes us, gives us wings, teaches us to trust our abilities. But the second, and here lies the paradox, teaches us to use those abilities in service of something greater than ourselves. A purpose.
If today you find yourself midway up the first climb, fighting for that position, that clinic, that sense of being “someone,” I send you an embrace from this side of the path. There are no shortcuts and no magic leaps. You have to live it all: the thrill of the peaks, the solitude of the valleys, the gratitude of each small summit reached.
And when the time comes to seek your second mountain, or if you are already starting to glimpse it, remember, there is no single way to climb it. Each of us finds our own purpose. What matters is not fearing change. Let the path change you.
Because, in the end, the best views are not always from the top. In the end, what we treasure most is the journey itself.
Enjoy the journey,
Bruno

