Another Year

"Be the change you want to see in the world." - Mohandas Gandhi

"Belief without action is the ruin of the soul." - Edward Abbey

I have a some resolutions on my mind. I have a few new goals that I've set before me. I used to be resolute and sure. Now I'm not sure if I am resolute.

There is only one way to find out.

Here's to the New Year and my new determination!!

winter

winter is closer

it is the lack in my breath

all things that I tried to define

are lost in grey, the fog

because I am jumping now

into a

because I cannot define this

any longer

any longer and I

would simply become

a

and that's now who I am.

So for the both of us,

all my love.

And thank you.

Fear Less

I thought I was fearless.

But now sounds in the night make me jump.

The words "ground fall" and "decking" make my skin crawl.

Either I am getting older

or I am losing track of who I am.

Who's keeping track, anyway?

My Mountain

Halo around a naked pine

As I am surrounded,

Just as bare,

By musings: No end.

No beginning.

I want to sit here

And fall with the ice

As it trembles tumbles down the side

Of this mountain.

Now that I am here

I can see from the Salton's blue to

The cool of Idyllwild

To the islands of the Pacific.

All of my homes can be seen from here.

All of my childhood dreams can be

Remembered from here.

I've always looked to this point

From all those valleys below.

Now that I am here

I have a deeper understanding

[Appreciation

Admiration

Awe]

Of why I found strength

In this mountain.

The Humbling

Ryan tied me in at the first belay station on a tiny ledge about 190ft above the ground. The ground; it never spun like it does in movies, but it looked up at me and laughed a condescending laugh. My eyes wandered over the knots and carabiners that held me to the wall.

I have no reason to fear. I know this gear will hold me. I know that I am safe.

But Gravity has a way of mocking you like a five year old might: "You're gonna faaaall!"

My eyes find Ry Ry looking back at me, smiling.

We're climbing! Why am I feeling fear? I smile back and admire the view. Clouds line the horizon and the wind is wicking the sweat from beneath my helmet.

Dappled Mare, 5.8: It's a beautiful climb in the Lost Horse area; finger cracks, an underclinging crack traverse, and face features. 380ft total. My first multi-pitch climb.

I hand out slack as Ryan climbs up, placing small cams and nuts as he goes. He climbs out of view. This is like fishing. I can feel him climbing at the end of the rope, at the end of this lifeline. Wwwzzzzrrrrrh! He must be nearing the end of the climb; not much rope left.

His voice on the radio, "Kat! I'm at the top. Off belay."

Now I clean up anchor and tie in to the rope.

The underclinging crack traverse is simple enough, but the wind decided, at that moment, to revisit me and test my mental abilities. The next piece of protection is about 15ft away from me, at the end of the traverse. If I were to slip I would become a human pendulum. But this was an easy ain't-nothin' series of moves.

Until the wind gusted and I lost my nerves and a string of profanity filled the air around me. My fingers clung to the rock and I regained my balance.

It's so hard to trust yourself, to trust in the movements of your body. But without that self-trust, you cannot climb.

I cleaned the pieces Ry Ry had set, clipping them to the webbing looped around my chest. As I sucked in breath I decided that if I were to continue doing any multi-pitch climbs, I would first do some endurance training.

"I see your helmet! You're almost done!" came Ryan's cheerful voice from the second, and final, belay station.

I smiled. I smiled wide.

Bear hugs are a great way to finish off a climb: especially when the person you are hugging helped you overcome your fears and doubts with only his smile.

heavy as water

Why do we fight each other?

Why do we struggle to be what we never knew we were supposed to be in the first place?

Why do we point and accuse others?

Why do we turn on three of the brightest lanterns and drown out the stars in the desert night?

Why do we miss a place that will be dilapidated and full of dust in just a few decades?

Why do we dismiss the feeling in our center (soul, spirit, heart, whichever) that tells us that we are not trying hard enough?

Why do we support genocide?

Why do we wash our clothes over and over and over again and forget to, just as consciously, wash our minds?

Why do we listen to a song that has lyrics that resonate with us and yet we do not sing along?

Why do we have hands that will bind up the wounds of one man and, with those same hands, steadies a gun and pulls the trigger, which sends a hollow-point bullet through the air and into the skull of another man?

Why do we fight?

Why do we wage wars that birth orphans and kill widows?

Why do we forget who we were called to be?

Why do we ask questions to which we do not have answers?

The Space Station

Suddenly I am aware of my ability to be broken; what it is to have your bones break and muscles tear. The wind howls and accentuates the height from which I look down. I hear Dad's words echo in my head: "Never climb up what you cannot climb down." I should have listened to him. I am not that far up, only twenty-five feet or so. But numbers don't matter when your gut is in a knot the size of your miniscule mortality.

I have been climbing for twelve years and have never bothered with free-soloing (climbing without a rope). There was never a desire to be above the earth without the security of 10mm rope between you and the forces of Gravity. Yet, at the moment, Gravity is chuckling and tugging at my faith in climbing shoes, taunting me as pebbles trickle past me into the air.

Then from behind the wind comes the words of my little sister, whom is perched comfortably next to me. She tells me to only focus on my next move. Breathe.

My life, when looked upon from where I am, seems too big, too real, and entirely incomprehensible. There are too many choices just in front of me that could lead to pain or to a shattering of my existence as I know it. Am I looking too far ahead? Why do I feel that whatever I choose next will be my downfall?

Joshua Tree has always been a place of clarity for me. I come here expecting to feel refreshed and renewed. But as I look down at the granite below and picture my broken body in a bloody mess, I don't feel clear-minded.

I don't know where I shall go in life. By the Laws of Time I am projected forward into my future whether I make a choice or not. So...

I scoot forward, heels pushing my back into the rock behind me. I watch where my little sister (mountain goat that she is) places her feet, her hands. Tears make it difficult to see, but there is no going back now. The wind dies down like a gift of courage. My toes reach a ledge wide enough to stand on and I do: I stand. Relief washes over my face in hot little streams. My sister hugs me, confident and beautiful as always. Joshua Tree is still our home, not our deathbed.

What next? I am not ready to answer that question yet. I can say that I will make it through whatever comes at me; when I do make a choice I will live with the consequences. One day I truly will face my mortality and I will succumb to it: that day was not today.