When I walked outside this morning, there was only one sound: birds. Hundreds of birds singing and chirping in the trees. How many times have I walked outside my house and been oblivious to this sound? How many beautiful things have I ignored or taken for granted? This is not something that I care to think about, because of the answer: to many.
I consider myself a privileged person. I live with my family in the country on two acres of land, I climb, I have my own climbing wall to train on, I go to college, I am allowed to borrow the car. I can ride my bike for an hour and not see a single car. I spent yesterday climbing at a new world class climbing gym, and came home to dinner with my family. My climbing partner is still willing to belay me after the blow to the head she took catching my last whipper. Damn I take it all for granted. Even still, I look at people who travel to the Bugaboos or Patagonia to climb and think, “man that guy is lucky.” Yet, I am planning a trip to Yosemite and the Buttermilks this summer.
Maybe it is time for me to be thankful for the things I have at hand, time to acknowledge that the best things in my life are the things I do and the people I do them with. I try and place myself in the lives of others that I deem better than I, forgetting the awe and extravagance found within my own life.
I think the point of all this rambling is to somehow produce some accountability for my life; a call to change, maybe. Find the adventure in my own life rather than looking to Rock and Ice or Adventure Journal for “adventure.” Life is an adventure. Yvon Chouinard so famously stated that adventure is when everything starts to go wrong. Is there a day where everything goes “right?”
After the birds this morning, my sore wrist from yesterday, and reading scores of bloggers 2014 resolution reviews, my thoughts were stirred. I want to focus on my life in 2015, I don’t want to dream up a fantasy or wish myself into the live of another. I am going to be thankful for the journeys I have. I am want to truly appreciate the people that I interact with, because they are what make this life fun. These are the only things I have on this earth: journeys and the people I do them with. It’s a shame I took this long to realize it.
Finally, I’m back. I have been writing, note taking, brainstorming, mental clearing, training, and trip planning over the past few weeks. It is time to get out and have an adventure. To get up from this desk and get outside. Norway, Canada, Joshua Tree, Washington, Smith Rocks; they are all calling, I just need to answer.
March and spring are a little over three months away. Are you training? Are you planning? Are you doing?
It’s time for adventure. Get inspired! Then get out and do what you love.
My excuse for not writing on my blog is truly lame: its school. See, told you LAME. My paper on transferring CIA drone strikes to the Pentagon has consumed any time I could possibly devote to writing. The rest of my time is devoted to calculus and economics. Yes, I have no life. If someone wants to offer me a full time writing or photography job, I would seriously consider it.
I do find time to climb, however. I took a day trip out to Smith Rocks and pulled on some great routes and got a few good shots. It was a much needed break after mid-terms and all that mess. Good news, after this class, I am out of writing classes to take; therefore, I will be left to write for those who wonder through the pages of High Sierra Collective (and lab reports and eventually a thesis. That last one is a long way off).
If you are still worried about closing your shutter in a National Forest read this (I just figured out how to link something using a word. How exciting.). Then you can share it with your friends or act like a rebel who takes pictures and breaks the rules (even though you not).
Just please don’t be like this girl. Her “art” was kind of creepy to me any way.
You can hardly call it light out. Even at 8am the sun, barely over the horizon, is shrouded by black clouds and rain. It doesn’t make you feel happy, yet, your not sad. You are relaxed and at peace. I’m dead set on a ride, forget about the rain. I put on my kit and riding jacket (not that it will protect me from much). I check the air in the tires and go. Before I peddle our of the driveway I’m soaked.
I watch as my tires shed water in streaks of brown droplets in a line behind them. They somehow manage to keep up with all the ambient water on the road. My helmet has a steady stream of droplets spewing off it into my glasses. Water is everywhere. I cannot feel my legs, they have become part of the cranks. They work in unison with the bike as if they were not part of my body. They, like the bike, don’t worry about being wet; they just push.
I cannot stop, they cannot stop. We are all soaked, but what do we care? Its our nature, we just push.
I think we all need to read this. I have posted essays by Andy Kirkpatrick before and they are always extraordinary, thought provoking pieces. This one in particular will really make you think about how you view your life and the lives of others. If you don’t feel like reading the whole thing, at least read the final few paragraphs.