A Brotherhood Baptized in Blood

There are nights as I drive from work, during a raging snowstorm, when all around me is black and white. The sky black, yet white and tranquil. As I warm my truck in the office parking lot I repeat my mantra "don't quit..don't quit..never give up..always get up". I see my breath, warm and moist as it exits my body having filled my lungs with life. The days are usually long and I am typically drained. Always having to give one hundred percent to stay focused in an intense position at work. The demons and agonizing thoughts always grabbing at my heals, promising to drive me insane if I just give them an ounce of my time. But I won't quit. Never will I tap to the demons that chase me.


So I sit as my truck warms and tell myself that I cannot go home to an empty house and just sit. There are times where that is just a relaxing end to my day and I actually look forward to it. Those times almost always fall on the weeks where my kids are with me, otherwise I try to stay busy, stay fit, stay focused, and continue the fight. I've looked in the mirror over the last 8 months and I have seen a transformation as glorious as any I could ever imagine. I have watched my body change into one that I am proud of. I have felt my heart pound out of my chest in utter sadness, and yet still it beats stronger each day. I have struggled to breathe at times, choked out by a nightmare unseen as it approached. So I sit on a cold snowy night, warming my truck, looking in the rearview at the clarity in my eyes. As I shift into drive, I sense the drive in my soul, knowing that my next stop is my home away from home. This home is one where I feel nothing but joy as I cross the threshold. Inside those doors are my brothers and sisters. My family. The ones I "roll with". The ones who "know". Warriors one and all. Their battles are their own, as mine is left to my graces, yet once through those doors, we are an army bathed in sweat, and often blood.


I know as I drive through the white darkness that my day has been long, my mind and body are tired, yet my foot is heavy on the pedal. I crave the sounds of leather hitting leather, of a beautiful take down and the ensuing smack of flesh hitting the mat. The smell of a gym is something few can appreciate. It permeates all within. The sweat that pours from our bodies is an intoxicating tonic, the adrenaline pumps through your veins like a junkies fix. I crave this, it is who I am, it is what drives me to keep on keepin' on. It is my fix. So I drive, heavy footed and anxious for the "beauty of the process", as a friend so eloquently put it. It isn't the smashing of bones, the popping of joints, or the spilling of blood. It's the process inbetween. It's the two guys in the locker room who just watched you get your ass kicked, yet they tell you that you did good. The same guys who hear your story and intently listen...you can see it in their faces..they "know". They know what I come for and I am sure they leave their own demons at the door. They become "family", as one put it. Suddenly the loss you suffered becomes an acquisition of an unforseen frienship. The brotherhood grows, and only those within know.


As I approach the gym I feel the tranquility of the dark, cold, snowy night. Few walk the streets. Most sane people head straight home and cook a hot meal, build a fire, and relax. The fire inside me keeps me warm, and the comraderie inside the gym feeds my soul. I travel down College Ave and as I pass the gym I see the frosted/etched windows. What isn't etched is fogged over from the heat within as it battles the cold outside, bitter enemies, only to meet and become one. It is a scene I see often when I close my eyes. This place has become home. That is where I belong. The family within those walls may dish out pain upon me, but it is a pain that heals, a pain that brings you back to where you need to be. A pain full of kindness and understanding. It is the only place that I know of where you can inflict, and have inflicted, this kind of pain and punishment and yet when you are done you wrap your arms around your oponent and sincerely appreciate the warrior they are and the battles you share. Only in this place can you look that person in the eye and know that NO MATTER WHAT they will be there to share the pain whether it is intangible, or deep seated in your soul.


As I park and grab my gear bag I suddenly realize that my worries from the day have all but vanished. Gone in the night. Taken away by the thoughts of what is to be before me. Snatched away on a cool, crisp, blustery night. As I walk the half block to the gym doors, snow and ice crunching under my feet, I feel my hair tingle. I open the front doors and life comes rushing out at me. The sights, smells, sounds, and smiles. That is why I come back day after day. The bonds we make on the mat cannot be broken by lifes simple, insignifcant, trivial, and mundane trials. The honor within those walls is something that most people only dream about. The friendships and support are often glorified, and fantasized about in movies, script, or fairytales...but here we find it. Here we live it. Strong, intent, and solid.


After changing and stepping onto the mat, I wrap my hands and begin my warm up. the music thumping and my heart pumping. The sound of heavy exhaustive breathing fills the room. The ropes slapping the mat, tapping to a rhythm that only a fighter could love. The timer sounds the rounds, we hit the floor and sprawl to the ground. The sharp, crisp sound of a sudden strong exhale as someone hits the pads, "hhhhsssssssssttttt", then the crack of leather to leather. Then on those nights when we trade punches with one another - that is where you find the peace within it all. The process suddenly comes to fruition. You move side to side, head moving, feet dancing, jab, cross, hook, leg kick. Nothing else is there. No divorce, no financial worries, no job stress, no bills to pay. Just you and a "mutual" combatant. Both there willingly and both holding their own destiny in their hands. Each move calculated, countered and recalculated. Methodical in your pursuit, you stalk one another looking for the opportunity to strike.


I know I cannot change the past. My mistakes are mine. I live with the fear, pain, and anger on a daily basis. Most nights are spent without complete sleep. The tears still come from a well that I thought had run dry. I often have to pull over and just catch my breath. I hate being alone. I miss the sounds of a house full of love and a "FAMILY" complete and whole. The monster(s) that took these things (or took part) are out there. They laugh in the shadows and continue their plight. But I have peace. I have a family again. They are not what I once had...but they will do. Retribution is not mine to give - God shall tend to that. In the mean time, I'll walk through those doors every chance I get and wage war upon those willing to grant me with the privelage. The blood I spill is freely given, the pain gladly taken. The body I build is for fighting. The spirit inside will never tap to the demons that surround me. My spirit may have been knocked to the mat..yet I will always get back up and continue the fight.

Angel of Serenity

"Get beyond love and grief: exist for the good of Man."


This quote was taken from The Book of Five Rings. Written by Miyamoto Musashi, a great Samurai warrior, circa 1645. The book is considered a classic text on the art of war and strategy. It is a book that I could read over and over again and always find something new to glean from its pages. Many corporate leadership retreats are using the book and its message during seminars these days. It is the above referenced quote that came to my mind today. The past seven months have been trying, often a struggle, and yet more often, an inner battle. To spend half (well almost) of your life with someone you considered a soul mate, and then to be left with less than nothing, is a trying experience. One I do not wish upon my worst enemy. There is no book, strategy, or easy way to navigate through the tangle of emotions and the litany of confusion. Looking over my shoulder now I see the person that passed through this battle and has emerged a better man. Scarred? For sure. Changed? Immeasurably. Beaten? NEVER. I have been given a gift through this travesty, of love and hate. That gift is rediscovery. Enlightenment if you will. While the journey will never end, I can now look over my shoulder and see from a higher vantage point. I can see beyond the sea of despondency, beyond the black and littered battlefield, to a glorious sunset. A sky painted orange, pink, red, and yellow. All the colors of the heavens are before me. The clouds painted with the gentle soothing colors of the Gods. The heat and rage I have felt are replaced with a soothing breeze upon my face. A purpose I have found, a way I am finding.

My purpose is clear; my way is unfolding before me. I may never love again the way I loved her, but I “have” loved that way and I am grateful for it. I may be “alone” for a long time, if not the rest of my life, yet I have never been so surrounded by love, compassion, and companionship. I have realized that by definition being alone is not such a bad thing. It is only during this time that we can look deep within while looking at the vast world around us, and find again what it is we are made of. We can truly appreciate all that life has to offer us. All of the simple things that we have simply walked by in years past suddenly take on a whole new life. The feeling of a cool mountain breeze on your face is no longer simply a sensation. When that wind picks up now, you find yourself facing it, craving it, and breathing it in deeply. The sound of the wind in the trees is no longer just a simple intriguing sound; it is now the harmony of God raking his fingers across the forest. I look at people in a whole new light. I don’t see a person before me; I see a life and soul before me. So much deeper than I have ever imagined. My life was completely taken from me and I now realize that the human spirit is profoundly evident in all of us. A man can be broken, but as long as his spirit is intact he can recover and in fact can return a better human being. I no longer pursue possessions or relationships for selfish delights. When I meet someone and I choose to know them, I want to see beyond love, hate, discontentment, scorn and reason. I want to see what it is that makes them happy. I want to know if someone is happy, not if they are successful, in a relationship, have similar values, beliefs or reasoning. I value the diversity in people so much more now. I care not where you came from, I care where you are going and even more so whether or not you appreciate the journey and the opportunity you have been given. It would be easy to label me in a stoic perspective but if you know me then I think you know that I waste not when it comes to words and my time. I have seen time flash before my eyes and I intend to not waste any more of it tangled in the confusion of normalcy. We all seem to “want” to be happy, but do we really know what we want that makes us happy? I hope I can rediscover that which gives me peace. I believe I am learning every day.

I can tell you that the laughter of my children is something that I find utterly deafening to my soul. Nothing warms my spirit more than to watch them interact and see the innocence within their actions. All the aforementioned qualities are abundantly clear in their eyes. The frivolous pursuit of material satisfactions has not yet grasped their minds. They are free and at peace. When my time with them was taken from me, I had no idea the impact it would have on me, much less them. Having them back in my life is tantamount to an awakening only spoken of in books. I have a whole new appreciation for making dinner, watching kid movies, wrestling, and even doing homework. I would fight to the bitter end to assure I could enjoy these seemingly mundane moments. I would not trade an eternities worth of wealth for the gift of these moments. Through these lessons and battles I have gained another true gift. As I mentioned before I have come to a place in life where I want more than the basics of knowing someone. I want to know beyond all that appears on the outside. I have gained so many new friends in my life and I am grateful for each and every one of them. I have found old friends again who have stood by me like they have in years past. I have also gained some truly astounding opportunities to get to know someone in a very real and vibrant way. Like I stated before, I want to “see beyond” the standard characteristics that people envision in themselves, and I have been shocked by what I have found.

I have found a deeper connection than I have ever imagined. Love? Lust? Like? Nope – PEACE, and appreciation. Serenity so heavenly and delicate, yet so solid and real. Don’t go wondering “who” this is or what this is…it just is. I am surrounded by so many good people and I couldn’t even begin to describe the breadth of my appreciation in having those close to me in my life. But the connection I speak of has found uniqueness in one who has truly touched my soul. Will this person be here tomorrow? I have NO CLUE, nor do I think of that. As I have said, I don’t know if I will love again, or be alone in this life, but what I do know is that the serenity before me takes my breath away. Have you ever had someone touch your face in the middle of the night while you are sound asleep, and not one cell in your body was startled? That touch simply brings you to a conscious state and there before you is this angel of serenity? Have you ever felt the air in your lungs so pure and refreshing? Have you ever been able to lay in COMPLETE peace next to someone and say nothing at all? Do nothing at all? Just lay there and listen to the air pass between you, through their lungs. Listen to your hearts beat as they drum to their own rhythms? When that touch that awakens you GIVES you breath, as opposed to startling you and taking your breath, is that something to ignore? Is it? I choose not to ignore such “little things” anymore. I want to explore what it is between two souls that can give you a place of comfort and peace unlike one you even thought possible. If that moment lasts a lifetime, I’d be grateful, and if it lasted only until tomorrow, I’d be just as grateful. As I look over my shoulder into the setting sun, or forward into the rising sun, the sky is only more vibrant and the journey only more gratifying when you feel a soul walking alongside your own. The raging battles around you are still there, yet your arsenal will see you through. The compassion in the world around you will shield you like armor. The soul beside you will guide you and laugh with you….you have no expectations..you have only the breath in your lungs and the moment at hand. The journey is sure to be glorious and vibrant..real and tangible. The battles in this life can truly be battles of attrition, yet I have strength in the hearts around me. The word “warrior” has a whole new meaning to me. I have seen pure love turn to pure evil. We all see that, yet I have seen the soul of humanity and the kindness of a kindred spirit. I am surrounded by so much good…I shall never walk alone and for all of you I am eternally grateful. For the angel’s out there – hang on and enjoy what today brings.



“Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.”

One by One

To all my friends and family who have stood by me through this nightmare, I thank you with all that I am. Sometimes in life we have to perservere and keep putting one foot in front of the other when all senses are saying give up. One by one it is the people that have appeared in my life over the last 7 months who have helped keep me on track and truly shown me life again. Some are new, many old, many I have never met, and so many from the past, but all of your emails, calls, comments, well wishes and prayers have been felt. You inspire me and keep me strong. My only hope is that I can pay it forward someday, if not directly to you. My gratitude will last all of my days. Today is the day I step into a courtroom to fight..not a fight in a ring, not a fight on a climb...but a fight for the rest of my life. No one wins in this fight..we all lose and lives are forever changed. Keep my family in your prayers and know we are going to keep walking forward..through it all.
Jim


One by one, the tears they fall.
One by one, I tear down these walls
One by one, the memories they fade.
Sequential they fall, a lifetime on parade.
One by one, life sprouts anew.
One by one I see things through.
One by one the battles they rage.
One by one my dreams are freed from this cage.
One by one time marches on.
One by one another day is gone.
One by one the angels appear.
The friends come to lend their ear.
One by one you have lifted me.
One by one you have given me the energy.
One by one you have stood by me in the face of these enemies.
One by one you have marched by my side.
You my friends; have kept this heart alive.
One by one we have worked through the moves.
Choreographed and orchestrated, dancing to a different groove.
One by one before the judge we will appear.
One by one our futures are so unclear.
One by one we will part.
Two by two… a divided heart.

The Smallest of Warriors - The Biggest of Hearts

Within each of us lies the embodiment of a champion. A wild spirit capable of greatness. Within a child lies the same gift, yet exponentially more viable. The lack of years and experience allows a child to truly “believe” and to foresee few (if any) stumbling blocks between their current state and their dreams, ideals, and ideology. We are all born with God given gifts, traits, and qualities. My son Kai was born with an amazing abundance of fortitude. Kai was born with lungs that were less than ideal. His ensuing years were full of medications, asthma, pain, sickness, and heartbreak. The pain of seeing your (then) only child suffering and unable to breathe is beyond comprehension even today. I have no words to describe what his mother and I went through. The sadness and pain in her eyes only deepened the anguish in my soul. The two people for whom I cared for more than the very air I breathed…were suffering immensely due to the lack of air for which he was able to breathe. I remember walking from the parking garage at Cook’s Children’s Hospital into the ER after dropping Peg and Kai off, and completely losing it. Sitting there on the curb between the garage and the hospital, I cried uncontrollably. Why him? Why not me? I’d have (and still would) given A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G to have taken away the pain and suffering that he was enduring. The same can be said for my desire to take away his mom’s pain. God works in funny ways sometimes, and I could not convince him to give me the pain. “Take me in place of the pain you have given these two”. I remember that night and sitting there on the curb and just wondering if he would ever be a “normal” child.


That evening Kai suffered a Spontaneous Pneumothorax, or as most people would understand it, a partially collapsed lung. It is a condition where air or gas is present in the pleural cavity. It can (and did) cause a partial collapse of the lung. In his case it was brought on by his weakened lungs and the presence of an infection. I have to tell you that it is one of the most frightening experiences I will ever face. I have/had seen respiratory emergencies while transporting patients in the ambulance while working for the fire department, but NOTHING could ever prepare you for seeing your own child go through this. Their skin turns cyanotic (blue), their breathing is labored and gradually their level of consciousness begins to deteriorate. Now if you are a parent, imagine your child going through this – literally slipping away before your eyes. I remember the night like it was yesterday. I remember that it didn’t seem “that bad” at first. Just another trip to the ER. We were used to them by then. Something was just different this night and the days that followed. It goes without saying that this type of experience can test your faith and rock you to the soul.


Kai would eventually get better and be released. All the while he was just that innocent little boy who wanted so badly to play sports, run, ride his bike, and be free of the plethora of medications he was forced to ingest. Many would make him shake and feel nervous. The litany of medications would ebb and flow over the years. We eventually relocated to Durango Colorado. One of the factors that made the move worth the risk (financially and otherwise) was the prospect that the cleaner, cooler air would help alleviate Kai’s symptoms. Peg and I never banked much on “luck” in our lives together, but for once we were truly LUCKY. Within a year of moving here Kai would join his first baseball team, the Durango Braves. No name could have been more fitting. He was a boy who only wanted to be free. Free from the sickness that kept him from being whatever it was that he was born to be. Free to chase his dreams through the hills, through the streets, through the life he was given. Kai was not born a “gifted athlete” in the conventional sense. He has had to work extra hard for all of his athletic accomplishments. I remember his practices for baseball and seeing his determination radiating from his eyes. The other boys would occasionally tease him when he couldn’t figure out how to do something, when he didn’t understand a rule, a tactic, or the terminology. But he never quit! The sheer uninhibited determination that he showed was absolutely astounding. I will never forget the lessons I learned while watching him bumble around and figure out how to be a “normal kid” out there. I was faced (as I am sure his mother was) with a new kind of pain, the pain of wanting to protect him in new ways. You just want to run out there and catch the ball for him, teach him the rules so he can understand, and run next to him as he steals that base – yet you can’t. This was his journey, and no matter how painful it was to watch, you had to let him go. The first time Kai hit the ball during a game was a moment forever etched into my very soul. I will go to my grave with a smile as long as that memory is there. Every parent on our team knew Kai’s story and there wasn’t an ass on a seat when he connected. I kept the video of that moment on my cell phone until I washed it (the phone was dirty and needed a bath). I found myself playing that video over and over again throughout the last 6 months of my life. It made all my worries seem so trivial. The deafening screams reverberating from the bleachers. I just wish I would have found a way to save that video. I’ll cherish it forever, even in its absence. The most dominant sounds on the video were those of his mom’s screams as well as mine. I am not sure who was louder. Kai made it to second base on that hit. I don’t remember if they won, I don’t remember if he scored, I don’t remember who they were playing, but I shall never forget the sharp crack of that bat crushing the ball and the two little legs flailing, and a body of a little boy trying to keep up with the little legs that propelled him. He would go on to make some other amazing plays that season. In the end, Kai was selected as Rookie of The Year. An honor and accomplishment that I hope he can truly appreciate someday. He EARNED every ounce of what he accomplished. No one held his hand or made it easy on him. I work part-time for the coach of that team now and I can tell you that he DOES NOT give hand outs. The pride that I feel when thinking back on that season is utterly indescribable. If you are a parent, I am sure you can imagine.


Kai’s life slowly began to change. His bouts of asthma had almost entirely diminished. His multiple episodes of a collapsed lung were a distant memory. He rode his bike all over our neighborhood, he ran, he rolled and wrestled with all the other kids. He was free. Earlier this year Peg and I realized that Kai was still dealing with one of the side effects of a young life kept from normalcy. Kept from chasing those gifts we are born with. Kai was very timid and almost afraid of everyday confrontations. I used to say (and it pains me to say it here) that he was “afraid of his own shadow”. As a parent, you want so badly to protect your kids from life, yet you want them to experience life. We just wanted Kai to be assertive. He was anything but! So we enrolled Kai in a program at Durango Martial Arts (DMA). DMA is a mixed martial arts studio. Brazilian Jiu Jitsu and Muay Thai (Thai Boxing) are all they offer. I knew from my past experience with Muay Thai that this was a tough gamble. This wasn’t a sport of points, and katas (an intricate series of moves compared to a dance known in other martial arts) these two disciplines were about knocking out your opponent or tapping them out. Submitting them! Imposing your will upon a willing opponent. It was something that “ I “ always dreamed of for him. I wanted him to NOT be afraid. To be relentless in his pursuits and to not let anyone stand in his way. To know right from wrong and to know when to stand up and when to sit down. So in he went for his first couple of classes. Shy, withdrawn, and timid. That is how I could best describe his initial introduction.


Over time the kid surprised me again. All the feelings described above in regards to his baseball experience, can’t even touch the evolution I have witnessed at DMA. His instructors had all expressed interest in Kai’s progression. We sat with them prior to him enrolling just so they’d understand that Kai didn’t have all the opportunities that his peers did growing up. He wasn’t able to wrestle around the yard without the risk of suffering immense pain from his lungs not working right. All of his instructors began to see something within this little boy. I believe in my heart that Kai has a warrior spirit within his little soul. No one has “given” him anything (like I said before). He spent his younger years just dreaming of doing some of the things he does now. Now he has the chance and I believe that all those pent up dreams are bursting from his very pores. He is still like most kids, in the fact that his interest wanes from time to time, but he is magic on the mat. For a kid his size, age, and experience level, I see something in him that makes my heart pound with pride. I see the heart of a champion, the kid who won’t quit and who is no longer afraid. I truly thought that the experiences of his first baseball season could not be surpassed. Was I ever wrong?


August of this year was a trying time for Kai, Kealey and I. I am not (and never will be) the same person I was prior to the experiences of the last year, yet my concern for my kids consumed me more than anything else. I wanted them to feel a sense of normalcy. When the guys at DMA suggested we sign Kai up for his first tournament I thought it may be a little premature. He was going through a tough time in his life, as were the rest of us, and I just wasn’t sure he was ready for a tournament the size of the “Fight to Win” tournament they were recommending. Just the name of the tournament had me a bit concerned. Was he ready? Would he handle defeat well? We all are defeated in all aspects of our lives, but he was vulnerable in so many ways. Here I was trying to take the punches for him again. So we went. I was under an immense amount of stress in my life right at that time, and I was not looking forward to him and I driving 7 hours to Denver for this, but I knew it was what he wanted and I had accepted the fact that this could very well be a good experience for him. Then an incredible friend stepped forward and flew us up to Denver. Kai was ecstatic to fly. What kid doesn’t love floating above the clouds? Heck- what adult doesn’t love the same? Friday night we watched one of our instructors fight. By this time I had begun my own journey with DMA. I had done Muay Thai back when I met my wife. It was something that helped me through some tough years in my life, and here I was again finding solace through my fists and feet. I was just as excited to see Chris (our head instructor) fight. Kai was glowing with enthusiasm. Not for the brutality, but for the strength, honor, and courage that he was seeing Chris exhibit. You could see the pride in Kai’s eyes even as Chris walked to the ring. When Chris won Kai was almost hysterical with happiness. He told my friend Jay “that’s my instructor”. But that isn’t the story here.


The next day Kai weighed in early for his tournament. The tournament was a Jiu Jitsu tournament. Not MMA! They don’t let these little guys exchange blows. It is about submissions and gaining points (the points are less desirable than a submission) over your opponent. He weighed in and just barely made weight. Had he been 3 pounds heavier, he’d have been bumped up a class. I was nervous for that but in hindsight…I know now that he could have handled it. There were a bunch of us from DMA there. Kai’s coaches (Matt and Jeff) were there for Kai as well as his little buddy Dylan. I was there as his biggest fan. He was a bit nervous and you could see it. The place was packed with about a dozen mats and HUNDREDS of people, and lots of eyes to watch your every move on the mat. That timidness I mentioned before? It was gone. Kai wasn’t afraid to walk around and talk to people. He wasn’t afraid of his shadow. He was nervous about his results. He wanted to do well so badly. He needed success in whatever capacity he interpreted that. He had no clue that his dad was even more of a wreck. I wanted him to survive long enough to just have a small taste of success. To just feel that he had come so far.


We gathered around the mat for his age group and bracket. Kai was nervous and you could tell. He had come so far on this journey. Our lives had taken a VERY unexpected turn and we were still reeling from that. The pain he endured over his life (almost 13 years) seemed a distant memory, yet he was faced with a lifetime of pain, confusion, and questions now. He had made a few comments to me on the plane ride up that truly made me realize the effects of what he was going through. I had no words other than – “just focus on your opponent and what you need to do”. I told him to “visualize success and to picture himself getting his medal”. I am proud of my son and believe in him immensely, but I am also realistic and it pained me to say those words and not know if he’d prevail. He was pacing around, knowing that his name would be called soon. The kids fighting before him were a conglomerate of abilities. Most were pretty darn good. I remember the butterflies in my stomach and looking at the young man that stood before me. He had endured so much in his life, and here he was again enduring a certain hell, yet fighting like the champion he is. I had spent the prior evening in restless, sleepless anxiety. I was scared for life, scared for him, scared for the future. I was telling myself to “visualize success..etc, etc.”. Like the memorable moments of his baseball days, I will never forget the sound of his name being called and the look he gave me. His shoulders sunk. He was standing right in front of me. Every bit of anger, anxiety, hate, and pain that I felt over the last few months meant NOTHING right then. His head looked to the floor as he stood in front of me. What do I say? I stood there with him as they worked out who Kai would be fighting. No words. He just stood there for what seemed like forever. It was likely only a minute. I could feel his heart beating, though he stood a foot away. I could see the fear in his eyes. I had been there. The lump in his throat. Unless you have stood toe to toe with an opponent who is equally skilled, you just don’t realize that it takes more than fists, feet, fury, and skill to win a battle. It takes heart. Before me stood a little warrior with a heart so pure and true. A heart of a gladiator who earned every step that brought him to this moment. I finally reached up and put my hand on his shoulder, still searching for something “great” to say. I told him “Kai – I am more proud of you than I have ever been and you are a winner the second you step onto that mat.” He looked me dead in the eye and I could see that it meant something to him. Not sure what, but he heard what I said and I have NEVER meant anything more than that moment…my last words to him before he stepped out onto the red matt was “be strong and fight hard”.


Kai would go on to fight approximately a dozen fights. He fought kids who almost beat him, who cried at defeat, who trained longer than him. I look at the video now and all I see on the screen is the essence of a Warrior. Slim and slight, once timid, yet now confident. Years of insecurity were left on that mat. Kai fought more than his opponents. He fought adversity and turmoil. Kai left it all on the mat. He walked out of that building a champion. Maybe not to everyone, but to his dad he was a champion. We are supposed to teach our kids about life, survival, persistence, and how to fight the battles that matter most. On this day Kai showed me how to do all of these things…and more. These words have been a futile attempt to express the absolute pride of a father in the heart of a warrior who has earned all he has.
Jim

PS – Kai took second place in both categories he fought in. An astonishing achievement in its own right…but one second only to the lessons he learned and taught me along the way. He still looks at those medals frequently and smiles…he should – he earned them. Kai didn’t just “taste” success…he feasted on it and he deserved it.

Listening to the Silence

The silence that surrounds me is deafening. The reckoning silence that inhabits your soul is incomprehensible to even the most basic of reasoning within. You lie alone at night, ever more over the months, contemplating and reasoning as to what brought on the silence that surrounds you. The loss of love and kindness that consumed your daily existence seems surreal and distant, yet the quiet you feel deepens with each passing day. Within that silence you are consumed by the memories of a love that still burns real within your soul. Deep and pervasive it monopolizes your thoughts. You accept the facts at face value, yet you cannot comprehend the reasoning. The inarticulate stillness is there. The peace within this stillness is something that allows you to contemplate the hatred that is poured upon you. You cannot reason as to why, or how, one can feel such utter discontent and anger for the person you are beyond this tangled mess. Your mind is packed with memories that make you smile alone in the night.

You gradually elicit the good that was. You replace your own anger and anguish with the years of laughter and kindness. The kindness that was, becomes the silent warrior that caries you through to the next day. You listen to that silence within your mind, as one would listen to a wise sage of old. I have listened intently to those memories of a time past. To the laughter that filled a house full of hope and love. Deep inside the nightly silence I hear the footsteps of a time past. Of the small footsteps creeping into my room in the middle of the night. Those minuscule foot steps creeping to my bedside to tell me "daddy I'm scared". Your reassurance worth it's weight in gold. The look across a darkened room as that little soul crawls into bed between you and the comrade in arms who too was there to protect the innocence that lies between you. The gentle smile and touch of your soul mate as you look into the eyes of the other half of the equation that equals peace and sanctity, to the scared little child that has crept to your side for security. On the other side of the bed lay the other half of the wall that surrounded your child as she lie there in peace. The quiet that followed was interrupted only by the sounds of the air passing through the lungs of the two souls next to yours. You would eventually move to a place of alternate rest (the couch) because the little fitful feet that prodded you through the night could only serve to lengthen the sleepless night before you. You would always creep down the stairs, past the crackling fire, into the room of the other innocent soul dwelling in the house, just to listen to the breath that whispered to you in the night. Just to make sure he too was okay. All that mattered to you lay quiet and peaceful, at rest and in peace within those walls.

Countless nights I listened to that silence within the logs we called home. Never once taking for granted the gift I was given. I miss the sound of that silence, the serenity of that peace. All to often I find myself in silence now. I sleep little and wander these empty rooms often, searching for the gentle breath whispering softly from underneath the sheets. I sleep little, and wake often when sleep does come, looking for those eyes across the pillow. I know that my mistakes have taken that gift, "our" mistakes. To see beyond the errors of our ways is easy for me, impossible for her. To see the good that was is natural and comforting. I know the punishment I face will last a lifetime, the pain eternal. I listen to the silence in hope that I will hear her whisper in the middle of the night, telling me that she is there and feeling her gentle touch across my brow. All I feel is the emptiness of a space vast and lacking. All I hear is the wind on my window. All I feel are the tears falling from my eyes and soaking my pillow. Love is quiet, love can be silent, the love left will remain silent for a lifetime. Unwanted and repelled forever with a discontent that is all to real.

Silence can penetrate the strongest of hearts, the strongest of souls. I find as time goes by, that I have run out of words. Ways to express my sorrow, regret, anger, frustration, and most of all the eternal love that I will carry for the rest of my days. It matters not to the recipient, yet it carries me through to the next day. The silence is beckoning and I find peace within it. I find the quiet within this house is now a source of contemplation and relaxation. As I sit and drink my coffee underneath the tree outside my door, breathing in the crisp morning air as the sun rises before me, I hear a new voice. The voice of acceptance, the voice of nonsensical comprehension. I cannot understand, and frankly I am not sure I am supposed to. I have found the gentle breath of two little angels again. Though my time is limited and continually altered, I find utter joy in taking a moment to wander into their rooms and just listen...listen to the peace within their breath.

In the not to distant past, I was taken through a process of floating in a hot spring with my feet elevated on the side, reclined, with my head in the hands of someone who understands. She gently placed my head beneath the water so that my ears were just below the surface, and held me there. All the silence, all the stillness, became as enriching as any sound I had heard. The compassion and kindness in those hands, in the conversation that followed, all the memories floating in that space around me. I felt weightless in so many ways. I realize now that the experience then was no different than the nights I spend alone now. If you listen, all the laughter, whispers, breaths, and kindness are still there. Through the cruel actions and words, there is a gentleness ever present within. The eyes you look into now are not of the same being, but somewhere deep within those eyes there is a past full of memories and a life shared in union and mutual respect. The words have become harsh and scornful, yet you still hear the voice of an angel...however distant it may be, it is still somewhere within. Like the finest of musical notes, it is not the note that defines the music, but the silence between the notes. You just have to listen intently. Listen closely to what matters and listen between the notes. Somewhere out there, whether under my tree drinking coffee, under the warm water that surrounds me, or right here in this empty house, there is a deafening rhythm to this life. The silence that surrounds me is full of the sound of life. The love within will remain outwardly silent, but forever audible within. That silence reigns supreme and within it I find peace. In the mornings as I sip my coffee out on the deck, watching the sun rise before me, I listen. I listen intently to the silence around me, the the rhythm of this life.

Fighting for Tomorrow

It isn’t often that we are stripped of all that we know. Rarely is a person left lying in the darkness with an empty bed, an empty heart, an aching soul, and a spirit left in a frightening abyss. When this happens to a man, he has but few options; fight or flight. You can run from reality, but reality will inevitably win. You can hide from the truth, but nothing has the stamina of the truth. When the odds are slim, when your spirit is broken, and when the only thing you have left is the obstinate belief in the good within; then and only then can you fight from the soul. It is at this point, when you are stripped of your armor, that you can truly reach deep within for the arsenal within your heart. The pain of reality pierces your heart, yet the immeasurable good around you heals the hurt. Tragedy and injustice abound, but no one can keep down the spirit that lies deep within.

We all learn to fight for what we believe in. When you believe in the love in your heart, the future of your family, and the good of a “vow” you learn to fight in new ways. You find that you are alone on this battlefield. Your opponent is wicked and strange. The eyes you peer into are unrecognizable; the words from her mouth are harsh and unkind. The actions inflict wounds that shall never heal, yet you carry on. Through the careful introspection of what lies within, you slowly realize that the fight before you is not what you thought. What you thought was the truth for so long has evolved into an ever spiraling lie. The comfort you felt in her touch was absolute, yet in reality it was calculating and cunning. The years spent cultivating your love for her seems like wasted time. Immeasurable in their value, the years seem a blur. You stand before God and your fellow man fooled, stripped of your humanity, humbled by the love around you, yet unsure of what to do next.



Your choice is obvious. You must fight. The definition of what it means to “fight” evolves with each passing day. As time passes you realize the deceit only grows in its intensity and the breadth for which it reaches. With the support of those around you, you slowly put your life back together. You feel the arms reaching under yours, picking you back up, and dusting the dirt from your face. As time passes you begin to regain your strength and stamina. The world before me becomes more enlightened. The radiance of the love which circumvents all I am fuels me and fills my lungs with life. Clarity reaches deep within and what is required of me is more evident than ever. I cannot fight to fix what is not there. I cannot take back the years spent in a lie. I can only look to tomorrow and the lives that matter to me now – my kids and myself – and fight on. Move forward into the raging battle that is sure to await me. The tactics of love and kindness which I have surrounded myself with thus far are slowly being replaced by an unconquerable will and desire to emerge from this hell as a better person. To emerge with a sense of justice, and a future free of the iniquity that has surrounded me. When I walk from this battle, it will be with my head high.

The battle before me may not be against an enemy that is evident to me or those by my side. The enemy may merely be the inability of understanding. The confusion before me plagues me and is but a soldier of the darkness I must pass through. The battles I must fight are battles of my choosing. These will be selected carefully. I refuse to fight against ignorance, lies, deceit and blame. I will only fight for a better tomorrow for the three souls that matter most. This shall prove to be a battle of attrition. There is no easy way forward, no written script, and no battle plan. I can only walk before my God and my children with a conscience free of immorality. I walk forward from this point forward with little but the clothes on my back, but I have a heart filled with love and a conscience luminous and free. The tactics I choose are chosen carefully. Each step taken delicately. The little lives that you are responsible for are all that matter. Their tomorrow is essential and all encompassing. The pain and hurt you have been through matter little at this point. The fight you face will be long, full of pain, full of lies, and full of hurt, but you will not regret from this day forward. What is done is done and you cannot fix the unfixable. You will inflict only what you must, you will take any pain you can. You will shelter the little souls around you; surround them with love, laughter, and an abundant life. The tomorrow you fight for is always a day beyond today. The fight will go on, but fight on you will. Until the end.

** Usque ad finem: "To the very end". Often used in reference to battle, implying a willingness to keep fighting until you die.

Two Little Feet

I have often imagined what it would be like to be a child again. Carefree and away from the struggles that confront us adults. The worries of the world a distant obstacle. The laughter that flows freely, unabated, flowing like a river into a sea of worry free bliss. As I began to pursue climbing more and more, I often used an image of my kids, and my wife when I would struggle. I have talked about this in previous posts. You get to a place where your mind, body, and spirit are telling you to turn around. All senses are pulling you back, yet you know that there is a spark within that can engulf this negativity like a fire. Inflame your desire and passion to push you on. The summit is near, the crux move ever present, your senses tingling – yet all that you are is spent. Something internal telling you to give up. The ability to dig into something deeper within is exactly what often determines a successful climb from an unsuccessful one. The ability to tap into that extra energy, the ability to hold onto the untainted child like curiosity. That spirit of a child that knows no boundaries, has no fear, and is driven by an ever present curiosity. The sense of adventure within a child is a source that we all allow to diminish as we grow. To a child, all is possible. Their life experiences have yet to tarnish the unquestionable belief in themselves. The world has yet to tell them they can’t achieve whatever it is they set out for.


This is a fundamental trait that I believe makes a mountaineer successful when others around him fail. The unquestionable belief that they “can” achieve what they set out for. The child like presence within, and the ability to look into your mind’s eye and channel that energy to be present in each step. The curiosity of that mind- set allows you to drive your energies forward. Only when you can set aside the “what if’s”, the doubt, the unjustified fear, only then can you push beyond your limits. Like a child you lose the sense of limits. There are no limits when none have been set for you. You are the limiting factor that keeps you from your goals. I see this in my kids when I take them out for a day of climbing. They know no limits. Unless someone tells them that a particular climb is “hard”, then they just throw themselves and all their energy right at it. If we could all learn to find this place within ourselves again, we’d be a much better world. Less paranoid of our neighbors, more willing to risk for what we believe in, less fearful of a challenge. In my kids I see a simplicity that drives me to find “that” within myself. I know it’s there. I’ve seen it on climbs, challenging times, and during some really low points in my life when I thought I could not go on.


Five years ago I was on Mt. Rainier for a second time. Guiding a newlywed couple who were on their honeymoon. Yes a honeymoon climbing a big, hard, scary mountain. Only a climber could understand. I had been on the Summit a year or two before. I knew the difficulty; I knew the dangers were real. I had climbed in Canada for 6 weeks prior to summiting Mt. Rainier and knew what I was capable of when out on the edge of my ability. My senses were very keen at that time. My system was dialed, my abilities well defined. On the “Honeymoon Climb” I was still in top form. We began the hike up with an ominous sign looming over the summit. A big round cloud cap over the summit. No other clouds in the sky, just the round cloud wrapping the summit in its embrace. Those "round" clouds are called "cap" or "lenticular" clouds. They typically form over the taller mountain peaks, such as volcanoes (Mt. Rainier), as moist air is lifted high enough to cool and condense water vapor into liquid water droplets which produce clouds. The process is similar to what allows you to "see your breath" when you breathe out on a cold day. As the wind moves over and down the backside of a mountain peak, it sinks, warms and evaporates the moisture. Although it looks as though the cloud is "stationary", it's actually being continuously created on the upwind side, and dissipating on the downwind side. Such clouds are a good "early indicator" of approaching weather. As we stepped from the car I remember looking up and thinking “Oh Shit”!! I knew from watching the weather patterns over the last month or so that things were dicey. This was the same year that saw the mountain claim several lives. Here I was taking a couple up this monstrosity of a mountain to signify the beginning of their life together. We sacked up, packed up, and headed up. All the while I was discreetly watching the clouds over the summit. It was worsening. Everything inside me was saying stop. All alarms were sounding. I had a family at home, they had a future. We pressed on.


We spent the next day at 10,000 feet dialing in our system. Me showing them what to do should someone fall into a crevasse. Talking to them about the danger and our schedule. Letting them know that I intended to do as I normally did – start before anyone else started and haul ass. Stay in front of other parties where the prospect of crowds, someone dropping something, or someone falling on us was lessened. The lenticular was hanging onto the summit with a force to be reckoned with. I slyly walked off several times that afternoon to talk to other parties who were coming down. They reported high winds, low visibility, and freezing temperatures. We were cooking in the intense sun at our base camp. Just a friendly reminder of how variable the weather on a mountain can be. I prayed right there. For safe passage, wisdom, clarity, and the safety of myself and my partners. I also prayed that if God took me, he’d protect my wonderful wife and kids and keep me in their hearts all of their days. I was scared.

Pete had just gotten over a respiratory infection. Sharon was strong and ready, yet inexperienced on a mountain like this. Pete was determined. I was the responsible one and slept little. We woke at 10pm and slowly lumbered onto the glacier, put on our gear, and away we went. The child like senses were nowhere to be seen, felt, or heard. This was serious business. We crossed the first glacier around 10:45pm via headlamp. I could see stars, yet I could see wisps of clouds as well. The wind was light, the air crisp. I could hear the glacier crack under our feet several times. Ever shifting and settling. I could feel my breath. I could feel the contractions of my lungs, my diaphragm contracting and relaxing. I was running on all cylinders. I remember crossing over a rock band onto the next glacier and hearing rocks falling around us, pinging down rock faces, yet I could not see them. The tension was mounting. I felt like a bowling pin in a dark alley. Waiting patiently for my turn to come.


We ascended the Disappointment Cleaver. A rock band that is notorious for accidents, fatalities, and severe injuries. Once at the top we took a break. That’s when I first noticed that Pete wasn’t doing so well. He was cold, somewhat slurring his speech, and unwilling to drink much or eat. This was before I had my EMT training, yet I had Wilderness Medicine training and knew this was not good. We were in trouble, serious trouble. I had brought along a portable pulse oximeter just for this reason. This device measures your pulse and the amount of oxygen in your blood, or more accurately your level of oxygen saturation. People suffering from altitude sickness slowly absorb much less oxygen than a healthy person. I knew Pete was getting over some stuff and knowing it was a respiratory infection made it more important that we monitored his well being up in the thin air. I checked is O2 levels and they were low. Not so low as to turn around, but it had my attention. I talked to both of them and let them know I was concerned, yet not enough to turn them around. They chose to press on. Curious, like a child, of what lay ahead and wanting to see what that was. We left from there. Up into the clouds we ascended. My worries slowly fading, my own curiosity surfacing slowly as my drive took over. Ultimately, we would be stuck in those lenticular clouds for about an hour as the storm within those clouds intensified and shut us down. One of two teams who pressed on into a total white out, unable to move up or down. Pete was getting sicker. We crossed a HUGE crevasse via an ice bridge. I remember crawling across and belaying Sharon across this block of ice wedged between two walls. Above a pit that I truly could not see the bottom. Stuck in a storm at just under 14,000 feet. She froze right in the middle. I believe she cried, I know I wanted to. I was scared. We were in deep. Pete was sick. It was time to retreat. I prayed hard at this point. Those prayers were answered when the clouds lifted just enough for us to make our exit. We eventually got down to the glacier below. After HOURS of climbing we knew we were going to be okay. The storm still raged above but all parties were down. As we sat on our packs, relaxing in the sun, drinking water and eating, I couldn’t help but feel giddiness. A sense of adventure and pride that we touched our limits. Tapped them on the shoulder. Said hello to near disaster, then found our way back. I was out there. Beyond what I thought I could do. All the while I kept an image in my mind. I wanted to do climbs like this with my son. I wanted to be the dad that showed him what it was to have an alpine breeze blow across your face at 14,000 feet. I wanted to be there when he stood upon his first summit and to feel that connection that only one who suffers with you can share. I wanted to look into his eyes and see the joy of accomplishment. To see his lungs pumping and heart beating and to feel his soul set free right before my eyes.


That is what got me up and down on the Honeymoon Climb. I was growing closer to my little boy in those years and I refused to lie down and just give up when all that was inside me was telling me to do just that. He needed me and I wasn’t about to let a few little obstacles stop me from sharing his first summit, or any other “summit” in his lifetime.

I remember when the clouds broke and I was right behind Pete, he was sick but he wouldn’t quit either. He pushed himself harder than most people ever push themselves. There is a picture that one of us took as we were heading down and it always makes me think of my mantra that day. It wasn’t words this time, as most mantras are. I was short roping Pete. Right behind him making sure he didn’t fall. I remember thinking about Kai and the life I wanted him to have. I was looking down at Pete’s feet. Making sure he didn’t trip. I see it clearly as if it were yesterday. Looking down at his feet and imagining my son’s feet in his place. The visual mantra of my son’s feet pushing me on. The two little feet of a child who was becoming the hero I never expected. The inspiration I routinely found in him, right there in the snow in front of me. I imagined his two little feet walking with me through that storm. His little face full of hope and joy. Smiles and adventures. Carefree and free to be whatever he wanted to be. I was running from a storm that could well have taken me yet I was free. That image of those little feet in front of me kept me pushing forward. Down out of the storm. I knew I wanted to make it to another day where I could turn that illusion into reality. We made it down – all the while my son was my guide that day. He walked with me out of that storm.


Today I face a storm that is exponentially worse than any I have known. Unfamiliar and surreal it engulfs all that is around me. The challenges I face are ones that I am not prepared for. The cold and bitterness not from a wind, but from a heart grown bitter and distant, silent and gone. The raging storm is one for which I have no way to protect myself. My son is with me in this storm, as is my daughter. All the shelter, comfort, and protection I have worked so hard to surround them with since their birth, is utterly useless. We are exposed. Out there. At our limits, at the limits of what human nature is equipped to deal with. The storm shows no sign of subsiding. All I can do is be the guide to my kids. Be the rock that provides them any shelter that I can. Set aside my tears and pain and shelter them as best I can. Show them that after every storm, there is an amazing light. Look into the sunrise that follows and know that tomorrow is another day. Point their eyes to all the good around them. Hold them and tell them that I will walk with them. I may not be able to shelter them from the elements of this storm, but I will be RIGHT THERE with them. Putting one foot in front of the other. Pushing on to new summits. One foot in front of the other. Like their spirit, I will have no pre-conceived notions. I will not fear, I will only walk forward with them and share a sense of adventure. Unsure of what lies ahead but unwilling to turn around. We will make this journey together and I will pick them up when they fall. We will walk from this storm and onto a summit above the clouds.


After years of waiting for the day I could ascend a peak with my son – the day came this weekend. I have been spending more and more time with both kids, figuring out the dynamics of a new relationship with them. My time limited and “assigned”. No more waking and walking into their rooms to see their faces. I have been trying to find ways to keep the connection we have always had, even when I feel it being pulled from my grasp. I was looking at photos from the climb on Mt. Rainier and it hit me. I wanted those two little feet to experience all of the joy of climbing above the clouds, to experience what climbing has given me if he so chooses. I asked Kai if he wanted to go climb a peak with me. I don’t think I got the entire sentence out before he said “heck yes dad”. We set out late, giving him plenty of sleep. Neil and Linda were along for the ride. He was amped. Full of energy, questions, curiosity, and utter joy. The smile on his face was all I needed to see in order to realize this was a great opportunity. We did the approach with little more than light sweat glazing our heads. When we started up the ridge, it got steeper and scarier. Kai was a chatter box. I wondered if he was doing it to keep his mind off what he was doing. Neil was even a little nervous. As the climb steepened and the slopes slid away under our feet, I could only worry about him. His asthma! The kid has been in the hospital numerous times with a partially collapsed lung (Spontaneous Pneumothrax). I CONSTANTLY monitored his breathing. He was pushing himself, yet he wasn’t struggling. He was happy – smiling. I kept staring down at his feet, drawn to the symbolism. Here they were with me, two little feet. The same two little feet that pulled me from a storm were now walking with me as I had imagined. When we made the summit, Kai was a kid that I haven’t seen in a long time. We walked the last few feet together and I will NEVER forget those arms wrapping around me and the words he said – “thanks dad, I love you”. The kid put aside his doubts, fears, and walked on in that carefree spirit that he has. He pushed hard and he persevered. His wonderment and amazement at the top were worth all the broken bones, falls, anguish, and pain that climbing has brought me. The storm that is my life right now blew away. We descended and on an August day – snow fell upon our heads. It didn’t last long, but it was like angels dropping flakes of comforting peace upon our heads. An hour later we were down on flat trails for the hike out. The sun was shining its brilliant energy onto our heads. The innocent child before me was free from the worry of life…if only for a moment. I looked down one last time as we approached the car..at the two little feet that have carried me across so many mountains and back down again.