Ascending to the Rhythm

There are few things in life that have given me a sense of purpose, release, accomplishment, and joy, such as climbing does. It goes without saying that my family does this, and more, yet as it is at this time my family was torn from my clutches. The perils of this journey are many, but the constant support of my friends has kept me accountable and uplifted all at once. Climbing has kept me free. Climbing, and the journey within any climb, are two things that you just can't explain to anyone who doesn't “get it”. The person who is unwilling to risk self, failure, pain, or pride will never “get it”. The rhythm that pulsates through your body as you find your groove on a climb is tantalizing to even the mere spectator. Climbing well, gracefully, and in a rhythm is something to be seen, felt, and inspire. As you flow over the stone with seemingly effortless grace, all parts of your body working as one, your world just becomes magical. The stresses and worries of everyday life just fall away as you ascend higher. Each move releasing more of what should not be, replaced by a splendor and serenity that keeps you going. You tire, you risk falling, you risk failing, yet you keep going. Fear can run through your veins, but it is the life giving energy which you leave with, that keeps you going. You know not what lies ahead, yet you ascend willingly. A buoyant rhythm about you, a dance with gravity, where you dance in step, a tango with the demons within you, those are the dances I will always remember most. I have always danced to the beat of a different drummer. It is who I am, at the core, to challenge myself and to bask in the glory of persevering and pushing myself beyond what I thought possible in all aspects of my life.

At the base of every difficult climb, I tend to close my eyes, lower my head, and just clear out all the clutter that is dancing within. On a really difficult, dangerous, or scary climb, I’ll ask God to move with me. To be the extra energy I need to make the next hard move. To have me on belay and catch my fall if it should come. As I submerge my calloused hands into my chalk bag, I caress the powder as it is absorbed by my pores. You dust off your shoes, check your knot. A resolute look into your partner’s eyes tells you that she is right there with you. Connected by a 9.8mm strand of nylon. Connected on so many levels, yet so far apart. Her journey is neither yours, nor yours hers, but you know that she has you if you fall, if you fail, or if you need support. It is a connection beyond the rope between you. As you make your first move the jitters subside, the nerves cool, and you know what you must do. Your mind has been here before; your body moves over familiar territory. Your mind is sharp and trained to pull all things together. To release what needs to go, and to utilize all parts of your body as one. Like a flock of geese flying in formation, your mind leads your body, carrying it forward in its flight. You find a hold, a mere imperfection in the armor of the rock. As you gently brush of the dirt that covers it, you gently place the tips of your fingers on top of it. Slowly you apply pressure and feel the sharpness. You push out the pain and apply more pressure, keenly aware that too much pressure and you will “peel” from the hold. You feel solid, grounded, yet lifted. The rest of your limbs follow suit. Together like a well choreographed dance, to a rhythm all your own, you continue the process. Each move its own, unique and diverse. Suddenly all pistons are firing. You feel the strain in your back as you pull; the fire in your legs as you push. The sweat stings your eyes but you are smiling. Your soul is smiling. Your spirit is free. You are right where you need to be. Nothing can encroach upon the solidarity working within you. The burn in your forearms, the strain of your muscles, the beating of your heart, and the stinging in your lungs, all a beautiful machine. Working together, well oiled and doing what it needs to survive. NOTHING else is there. Just the sound of the wind, your body, the sun on your back; NOTHING! You are free. A freedom not freely given, but earned move for move.

The bliss when you make the top is amplified by the sun on your face, the wind in your hair, and the sense of being just a small part in a world so much larger than you. You look down and the solitude gives way to the smiling faces that you can scantily make out. They are looking up, smiling, clapping and laughing. They know the feeling. They have been there to push you on before. Those are the smiles and faces of those who “get it”. Words aren’t necessary when you lower to the ground; the drug that pulses through your body is all natural. Organic and pure. More than adrenaline, more than happiness. As you untie, the cool breeze descends upon you and a gentle rain begins to fall, cleansing the sweat from your brow. As those around you scramble in their laughter for some cover, you look to the heavens and allow the rain to fall upon your face. The winds pick up, the drops fall with more intensity, the thunder claps and the lightning paints the sky. You are home. Amongst friends, amongst family, souls who share the dance. The rhythm beats within them as well. The rhythm does not subside, you dash under a tree, on a rock, seeking shelter from the onslaught, yet the sounds, smells, sights, and people around you create a rhythm all their own. Those friends who lay about the rocks around you, sheltered from the rain, are your family. The rain falls and cleanses the world around you. The slate is washed clean, ready for the next dance.