"There are two kinds of climbers, those who climb because their heart sings when they're in the mountains, and all the rest." – Alex Lowe
It's been my addiction for as long as I can remember. Sequencing moves across a rock face, a boulder. The right balance. The right placement. A finger here. A foot, edging ever so carefully on a little nub of granite, rough patch of sandstone, a lip of basalt. Stilling the mind to make a move... Though I haven't had the opportunity to climb in Paraguay, I still prepare for the day of eventual return with time spent on my slackline, or by conditioning myself with weights, all for that ever anticipated "moment when all else ceases."
The picture above isn't recent (my hair is still dark and untouched by age (or stress). It was taken about 20 years ago in Nepal. A group of us were hiking the Annapurna trail, and this is me at the end. That face, like a crazy-joy-filled face, characterizes how I have always felt when on or near the "rocks."
"A man does not climb a mountain without bringing some of it away with him and leaving something of himself upon it." – Sir Martin Conway
My mind was always quite busy throughout my life--somewhat difficult to tame, to slow down. Always thinking about something, it seemed. Then, after university and while living in Colorado, I found climbing--that activity that "stilled it all." Or perhaps better said, that's when climbing found me...
Above is a picture from a weekend trip to Veedavoo, Wyoming. It was my first time with some relatively large "off-width" crack climbing--you can't see it, but the granite opens up several meters above into an "grinning taco" where I had to use my whole body to stay in the crack.
"Mountains are not stadiums where I satisfy my ambition to achieve; they are the cathedrals where I practice my religion." – Anatoli Boukreev
From the very first moment on the rock, there is this hyper-focus—a quiet of sorts. My senses become heightened, and the world around me becomes vivid. Clearer in a sense. More pronounced. (Like the world's veil is suddenly removed). I didn't realize until later that this would provide a foundation for my mindful practice and impact how I lead. Climbing serves as a sort of meditation, a way to slow my thoughts, refocus my intent, and ultimately ground myself.
As seen in the above picture, I mixed my climbing up with technical, sport, and more traditional mountaineering. The picture above is me working my way up "Demir Kasik" with a group of Turkish mountaineers. This was about hour 10 in. I was tired and having to do it all in Turkish (as none of the mountaineers spoke English and I had to rely on my Turkish).
Each type of climbing offers a different insight into me--each satiates a different need. Sport climbing speaks to the need for thrill and pushing my body physically. Technical climbing (with gear) speaks to the mental fortitude and focus needed to both choose and place gear while dangling high above from some precarious hold. Mountaineering just frees me physically, mentally, and somewhere in between all these types of climbing, I find a spiritual "stillness."
When I moved to Oregon (and part of the draw for certain were the basalt rocks), my pursuit of the "stillness" continued. I had some ten years of climbing under my belt by then. I had developed a certain maturity to tackle reasonably difficult routes with the necessary mental, physical and spiritual fortitude.
Above is my buddy, John. He and I are at "Smith Rock"-- a bolt climber's paradise. A cornucopia of places to just hang, dangle, and climb.
But the point of this post is not really about the rock or the art of climbing--it is more about its impact on my life, how it changed my work. Enhanced my life. Though I couldn't have articulated it when I was younger—I was in the middle of a delicate process of developing a belief, a mantra of sorts, that fundamentally allows me to explore and cultivate the various aspects of my "being" and balance who I am. This balance makes me "whole." I have always loved learning--I eagerly consume it. I have always loved exercise and ways to maintain physical health. For the most part, I compartmentalized them--kept them separate. Climbing has allowed those domains to cross. I can blend intellectual learning with the aether of spirituality (which above I refer to as stillness or focus) that results in physical symmetry and contentment.
Climbing has helped me realize the importance of paying attention to all the beautiful facets of being and see how interrelated they are.
I now speak to that same balance with my boys in their pursuits of activity and sports, especially after a practice or a day out playing or in the activity. "How does it make you feel? Did you learn anything?" I mean something deeper, of course. It depends on the day and mood, but I listen for the key pieces that I have continuously responded to when I have asked myself those questions. "I feel great--my mind just floated. I feel better, or guess what I learned?!"
It makes me smile when I hear it come from within them, bound with sincerity and happiness. And I always notice, how ever so subtly it manifests, when they find those precious "moments when all else ceases to exist"...
“When you ride your bike, you’re working your legs, but your mind is on a treadmill. When you play chess, your mind is clicking along, but your body is stagnating. Climbing brings it together in a beautiful, magical way.” – Pat Ament
Love your reminiscing! Her is a photo taken yesterday in almost the same spot as your photo.