The Rungs Between Earth and Everything Else
There’s an old story in Genesis.
A man named Jacob, on the run, falls asleep with a stone for a pillow. He dreams of a ladder reaching from the earth to the heavens. Angels ascend and descend. God stands at the top. When Jacob wakes up, he declares: “Surely the Lord is in this place, and I was not aware of it.”
That image—of a ladder between the mundane and the divine—has echoed through centuries. But like all great metaphors, it isn’t just a symbol for the faithful. It’s a blueprint for those seeking meaning.
The climb
Ladders are simple things. They don’t lift you.
You climb them.
Step by step.
They don’t promise shortcuts or escalator-speed. They demand effort. Focus. Rhythm. One rung at a time.
And unlike a staircase, a ladder feels vulnerable. You’re exposed. The ground feels far. The top feels uncertain. One hand wrong and you slip. But it’s also the most honest structure: transparent, minimal, and direct.
Which makes it the perfect metaphor for ascent—of any kind.
What are you climbing?
For some, the ladder is spiritual.
For others, it’s intellectual.
For some, it’s career. Or healing. Or love.
The point is not what you call the ladder.
The point is whether you’re climbing one at all.
Most people, when you really look, aren’t climbing anything. They’re just switching ladders at the base. They shop for better-looking ones. Shinier rungs. They wait for elevators. Or worse, they convince themselves there’s nothing worth climbing toward.
But real growth doesn’t happen on the ground. It happens between rungs. In the space where you’re stretched. Where you’re unsure if the next step will hold. Where you hear the angels but haven’t yet reached them.
Descent is part of it
In Jacob’s dream, angels were going up and down.
We don’t talk enough about that second part.
Descent is not failure. Descent is part of the system. The myth of continuous up is what breaks people.
The real ladder—whether of faith, or mastery, or inner peace—is cyclical. You climb, you descend, you learn, you climb again. Each time, the same rungs. But you bring something new to them. A different self. A clearer intent.
The ladder is already here
Jacob wakes up and says: “The Lord is in this place, and I was not aware of it.”
He thought he was in a random field, fleeing danger. But the ladder was already there. The connection between earth and everything else wasn’t something he had to build—it was something he had to notice.
That’s the part we miss.
Most people are waiting for the right tools. The right mentor. The right sign. But the ladder isn’t out there. It’s in your backyard. It’s in your daily practice. It’s in the thing you quietly care about, but haven’t dared to name sacred.
You don’t need new dreams.
You need to wake up to the ones already under your head.
So…
Pick a ladder.
Climb it slowly.
Let it shake you.
Let it change you.
And remember—angels go up and down.