I have always known that I am ambitious. I visualized success and thrived on pushing boundaries. Sometimes, I didn’t believe any other option existed. It was about how I felt—the constant hum to go after something, the ever-present visualization or daydreaming about success, and the somewhat externally directed urge to win a big account and reach a certain milestone. It didn’t stop at my work life; getting that running personal best was also on the list. Strangely, for me, it was never about money. I was constantly pushing uphill. Money never motivated me; the climb, the challenge, and the view from the summit drew me in.

Ambition was the filter with which I looked at the world. It constantly whispered, “You can do more; you have just scratched the surface.” I have always believed that there is a lot to do. I did things quickly, and speed was essential to me. I have sometimes been cruel to myself if I am not ambitious enough. And very judgmental of those who didn’t display their ambition on their sleeves. This bothered me. Why is there negativity about people with less ambition? The discomfort was not so much about less ambitious people. Instead, it was about their behavior. It was about behaviors that I associated with less ambition—being more peaceful and less restless.

Ambition has been the frame through which I looked at my world. Of course, a lot of good came out of it. I helped create a company with this mindset (Cequity) along with my partners and colleagues (though this mindset was uniquely mine). I built a broad and deep network that I could rely on for resources.

The filter I used for almost everything was: Is it ambitious enough, bold enough, and able to make a significant enough impact? As a founder, many societal inputs celebrated some of this thinking: unrelenting drive and a willingness to “walk through walls” to achieve their vision philosophy. Socioanalytic Theory suggests that everyone is motivated to get along and ahead. Ambition describes the degree and intensity with which people want to get ahead.

For the last ten days, I have been walking to Parang La Pass in Ladakh at a height of 5600 meters. Walking at high altitudes can sometimes be about an elaborate slow motion, taking care to slow down enough not to gasp in that oxygen-starved environment. During this trek, mountains often surprised me with a lovely splash of sunlight on a slightly hidden rock face. Yet our days would usually be unending; walks were long and tiring. It was a challenging journey with rugged terrain, high altitude, and fickle weather. Mountains are often considered symbols of strength, stability, and permanence. Though I was part of a group, trekking is an activity you must do alone. It’s about how you navigate whatever nature has to offer. And much of it is a slog when you descend 800 meters only to realize that you have to earn it all back and then some more. And you carry your judgments with you, and like an onion being peeled, the journey does the peeling for you. Most judgments cannot stand the impact of the high Himalayan ranges, the unmoving mountains one encounters daily. Maybe something about the sharp mountain air opens you to reexamining your firmly held beliefs. Unframing is a powerful act of liberation, a process of shedding limiting beliefs, assumptions, and societal expectations. I realized that ambition, like a mountain, has a shadow side. Or maybe it is just the fatigue; the tiredness lets judgments be prised loose. Ironically, undertaking a trek like this is also an expression of ambition. With one significant difference: nature is firmly in control, and unlike the rest of life, there is no illusion about this. So, being ambitious to finish the trek and being aware that nature may have other plans for you is a reality you work with within the mountains.

Pico Iyer says it best! “You don’t travel because you want to move around; you travel because you want to be moved!”

It is while doing arduous treks that I encounter the magic of framing. How we look at something and frame it makes all the difference. “Framing” refers to how something is presented, either as a loss (harmful) or a gain (positive). The two Israeli psychologists, Daniel Kahneman and Amos Tversky, have introduced us to the framing effect. Parang La Pass was at 5600 meters, and the fear of altitude sickness was always there. The constant framing of the mountain views that I could see seemed to make it all worth it, and the dangers of altitude didn’t occupy a central place in my mind. The words that I used in my mind were about beauty, timelessness, and nature. I spoke to myself on those long 10 km plus daily walks, soft words about the beauty I could see all around me. Beauty would constantly surprise us—the sudden patch of violet flowers next to the narrow path appearing out of nowhere. The jagged pocket of red seemed to have suddenly been sewn into the side of the sky with the setting sun. Trekking is often a profound journey both outside the natural world and inside our minds. The journey was difficult; the road was tough, but the internal conversation was about beauty, which reframed the pain.

Patrick Barry says, “The words you choose can change the decisions people make. Psychologists call the mechanics of this choice “framing.” They’ve found, for example, that more people will decide to have surgery if they are told that the “survival rate is 90%” than if they are told that the “mortality rate is 10%.”

We live with “filters,” and our judgments only get solidified with age.

I talked to myself a lot as I walked with the fantastic Himalayas as a backdrop. Ambition, a great attribute, was one belief I began to question. I thought of how I had changed myself to meet the requirements of being a very ambitious person. Some aspects of who that person was I liked. The dynamism, the go-getter part of him, still appealed to me. And yet, there was a subtle question: would I impact my environment differently if I were less ambitious? Would I have been less restless and forceful and allowed a different future to emerge? And yet, inspiration is a lot about the self-talk, the words I use with myself as I express my ambition. And ambition comes together and creates a sense of purpose; that’s when ambition is forged to become something better! So maybe it is a lot about the self-talk I use with myself as I express my ambition. Perhaps the words will help me rewire and connect more deeply to my purpose. Walking through the Himalayas was more than just a trek; it was a journey of unframing. I shed some of the rigid beliefs I had carried for years and embraced a softer, more compassionate view of ambition.

Travel is a beautiful thing; it distances you from your judgments. A challenging trek can be brutal, and you start reexamining many stiff and rigid views you may have carried for years. Travel creates an “Unframe” context for you. Ambition was one attribute I could unframe; maybe there are many more. I am still a work in progress, a traveler on a path of unframing.

I look forward to many more treks that will help my unframing journey. How do you plan to unframe?