It’s that time of year.
If you venture into an establishment that won’t evict you for dirty fingernails, you may spot it: it’s the table with the haggard-looking eyes-glazed-over pair, slumping over beers that they are wearily guarding with their life. Sidle a little closer and you may overhear the inane ramblings of two people dealing with the comedown of spending the day climbing extremely loose rock.
Rockies Choss...so beautiful you want to touch it. Photo Meghan J. Ward.
A few weeks ago, it was me slumping over a drink, looking like I’d been in a wrestling match with a scrappy cat. If you hadn’t mistaken my companion, Captain Awesome, for a gang member and braved the eavesdrop, you would have overheard our conversation that went a little like this:
Me: (giggle) Jeezus.
silence
Captain Awesome: Wow, what a day… Did that just happen? That JUST happened!
more silence
Me: Jeezus. (maniacal giggle)
Not the substance of great writing or interesting snooping for that matter. People desperately trying to align themselves with reality generally have pretty minor brainwaves: such is the state of our brains when we’re climbing those sorts of things.
If granite is God’s rock, then limestone is the rock of the Buddha. This is the arena that teaches us to empty our minds and exist exactly in the present. Climbing here can be a dualistic exercise in letting go, and practicing faith.
In hopes that you keep yours,
Carlyle
