Friday, July 10, 2009
Fish Creek Highline
On the 4th of July some friends and I set up a highline over Fish Creek Falls in Steamboat Springs, Colorado. It was a beautiful line, about 90' long, directly over the falls. It was an incredible experience in a beautiful location with some great friends. Here are a few photos from the day:
Friday, June 19, 2009
Recollection of the Future
We all have gut feelings, ominous premonitions, mental states that make us step back for a second and think about what we are doing. Some would call them hints by God to be careful, they could also be labeled as reactionary mechanisms that have evolved in a Darwinian method throughout the history of our species. Without a doubt, though, these fleeting states of mind, the ephemeral glimpses of the true reality of the situation, have a lot to do with the way we live our lives. In many cases, the premonitions that we have often outweigh any empirical evidence describing what should be the case. Empirical evidence is very convincing. Scientific data giving probabilities of failure and success, chances of survival, predictions of reactionary chains of events: it usually is correct without fail. But so much of our life is lived off of first impressions, gut feelings, premonitions; a lot of the time, we are highly successful relying on these methods.
The failure of empirical evidence is evident in every action that we take. The world would be a boring place if it were entirely predictable by scientific postulates and mathematical formulas. Knowing exactly what is going to happen before it does takes away a lot of the sense of adventure. Life needs the unexpected. Pleasant surprises are an important way to learn lessons. What's even worse about scientific datum, however, is that although they can adequately explain events that have happened in the past, their legitimacy fails in both the present and future. The classic example is that of gravity. Perhaps one of the most predictable forces on this little corner of the universe, yet we cannot explain its origins. The consequences of gravity are easily understood. You drop an object, and unless it is subject to a substantial number of additional forces, it drops to the ground. This is repeatable without fail. However, just because the object continues to fall to the ground, there is no necessary proof that it will continue to do so in the future. This is one of the great puzzles of western philosophy.
Our entire worldview is structured such that we observe our surroundings with a wholly scientific mind. It is the western way. Education, observation, the growth and decline of civilizations is all dependent on a scientific method of learning. As such, it is based on empirical evidence, and trends that have been observed through the analysis of that evidence. Everything from designing a satellite to designing a constitution for a new democracy is proof of this. The way that I structure this blog entry is proof of this. The way that I learned to skydive and slackline is proof of this. We approach the world with a very scientific mind, and therefore learn from and interact with it in a very scientific way. Slacklining, as I experience it, is one of the most zen-like activities that I pursue. However, the fatal flaw in my learning was that I approached it scientifically. Through steps, progress checks, and self-assessment, I scientifically analyze every step along the way in order to improve my skill level. It is the only way that I know. This juxtaposition between scientific learning for a zen pursuit is staggeringly odd. How could one facilitate the other?
I have come to believe that a method of scientific learning has limitations: It is subject to the understand of what has happened before, not what is happening, and what will be happening in the future. Just because something has continued to work in the past by no means gives justification for the belief that it will happen again in the future. This world is very complex, it is filled with surprise and mystique. There are so many things that we try to know about the universe, which are undeniably difficult, if not impossible to learn through a scientific method. In these cases, intuition, gut feelings, and subconscious thought really do a lot to define the truths of this world. Intuitions tell not of the past, but of the present and the future. Although sometimes less predictable than scientific evidence, the success rate of intuition is staggeringly high for something that requires no thought and no evidence to acquire.
This past weekend was filled with premonition, and doubt. I was getting ready to skydive Saturday morning, and had the strangest feeling that something was going to go horribly wrong. I did a couple more practices of my emergency procedures to prepare myself, but kept feeling some sort of voice in the back of my head warning me about the next jump. It wasn't telling me not to jump, but just to be careful. Mind you, these sorts of voices occur all the time while participating in an extreme sport, but this was a little different. More intense, more focused. I decided to go on the jump anyway, as I recklessly thought that life is too short to listen to all the voices anyway. (If we stood down every time we were nervous about taking a chance, life would be exceptionally boring). The jump was wonderful. I led a tracking dive on my back and two of my friends came in and docked on either side of me in a V formation as we flew a little more than a mile south of the airport. When it came time to open my parachute, however, things started to go even further south. I opened in a track, to ensure proper separation from my fellow jumpers (canopy collision during or directly after opening is one of the leading causes of death in skydiving). This type of opening caused my parachute to come out much faster. Apparently I had a weak point in the fabric, because when it inflated, with a "snap", the parachute spun up violently and as I looked up I noticed a large hole in the bottom skin of the parachute. It was about a foot in diameter, and caused my parachute to turn to the left on its own. Luckily, I was still able to land the parachute with the hole, but it was a very gripping experience.
My adrenaline had kicked in and I found the peaceful state of mind that (for me) accompanies being in stressful and extreme situations. I was able to act quickly and safely to prevent injury and/or further damage. I even landed in-bounds next to the runway, despite having to fly a mile back under an injured wing. However, it wasn't until that night, several hours later, when I realized that I had a premonition which accurately predicted the intensity of the situation. A voice had told me something would go wrong, and it did. This is obvious evidence of the power of intuition and gut feelings. In this case, the feelings were right. How could empirical data have predicted the failing of my parachute? Even worse, how could something completely unaffiliated with the construction of my canopy and the circumstances of its failure adequately predict the level of danger I was placing myself in? I would disregard it if this had not happened before, but it happens often.
Premonition is a powerful tool in the backcountry as well. When climbing high altitude peaks, traversing through avalanche terrain, crawling to the exit point of a BASE jump, the internal dialogue with your surroundings is very real. Countless stories of dramatic events in the backcountry are accompanied by descriptions of dreams foreshadowing the future, of premonitions, or just general gut-wrenching feelings. Usually, these feelings are right. It is very difficult to believe that these have any real effect on the events because we are brought up in such a scientific world, with a mechanistic understanding of events and how they unfold. But let's take a look at the origins of western thought, and the understanding of knowledge.
In Meno, an ancient text discussing the meaning of virtue, Socrates is simultaneously explaining to his interlocutor the origins of knowledge. After all, how could one know about virtue if one didn't know about knowing first? (typical Socratic nonsense). But there are a few gems in what he has to say. One of the classic examples of this occurs in the interaction between Socrates and a slave boy. Socrates asks the slave boy simple questions about geometry, questions that are easily answered by the boy. Socrates asks a few more difficult questions, and the slave boy struggles a bit, but comes up with the answer on his own. Socrates finally asks a very difficult question, and the slave boy admits that he does not know the answer. However, Socrates is persistent. Through a few leading questions from Socrates, the boy is able to show that he knows the answer. Admittedly, this sounds a lot more like teaching to me, but Socrates portrays the following message from this discussion: "learning is not a matter of discovering something new but rather of recollecting something the soul knew before birth but has since forgotten". The slave boy is able to discover the answers to the geometric questions which Socrates asks, and this is because the boy knew the answer all along, he simply had to recollect the answer.
Although Socrates redirects this to a discussion of virtue, it is very influential in the understanding of premonitions as well, mainly: where do these ideas of the future come from, if not from scientific evidence? Perhaps, as with the case of the boy, we already know the answers to the questions that we have every day. Why are we here? Can I fly? How can I best show my love for another person? Every time we ask a question, we can search inside ourselves to find the answer. Every time we have a problem, we can search inside ourselves to find a solution. This is what Socrates is saying. In the case of recollection of the future, we are simply searching inside ourselves for what we already know. We already know how why we are here, we already know if we can fly, we already know how we will die and how we will live. It is simply a matter of pursuing the right experiences in our life that will show us what we already know. By putting ourselves in the right situations, we can easily discover the answers. This is where gut feelings and premonitions come from. This is where remembering the future takes place. You can't depend on scientific data to show you the way of your world.
I'm not saying this is the right interpretation, but it is one interpretation. I would get severely ridiculed if I actually claimed that I could predict the future because I already know the future. But this isn't the right way to look at it. Instead, we can use premonitions and thoughts of the future as tools. Each time we are gifted with the ability to lucidly observe events that will happen, we should use it to our advantage, to help make our lives better. Each time we are gifted with a recollection of the future, we should see how that helps us answer the deepest questions that we have in this life. These are tools to assist us to become the best possible beings we can. These are tools that open our eyes to the inside of ourselves, and the inside of others. The recollection of the future is an important part of seeing the real world, and loving all of the beings inside it.
A quote from chapter 33 in the Tao Te Ching:
The failure of empirical evidence is evident in every action that we take. The world would be a boring place if it were entirely predictable by scientific postulates and mathematical formulas. Knowing exactly what is going to happen before it does takes away a lot of the sense of adventure. Life needs the unexpected. Pleasant surprises are an important way to learn lessons. What's even worse about scientific datum, however, is that although they can adequately explain events that have happened in the past, their legitimacy fails in both the present and future. The classic example is that of gravity. Perhaps one of the most predictable forces on this little corner of the universe, yet we cannot explain its origins. The consequences of gravity are easily understood. You drop an object, and unless it is subject to a substantial number of additional forces, it drops to the ground. This is repeatable without fail. However, just because the object continues to fall to the ground, there is no necessary proof that it will continue to do so in the future. This is one of the great puzzles of western philosophy.
Our entire worldview is structured such that we observe our surroundings with a wholly scientific mind. It is the western way. Education, observation, the growth and decline of civilizations is all dependent on a scientific method of learning. As such, it is based on empirical evidence, and trends that have been observed through the analysis of that evidence. Everything from designing a satellite to designing a constitution for a new democracy is proof of this. The way that I structure this blog entry is proof of this. The way that I learned to skydive and slackline is proof of this. We approach the world with a very scientific mind, and therefore learn from and interact with it in a very scientific way. Slacklining, as I experience it, is one of the most zen-like activities that I pursue. However, the fatal flaw in my learning was that I approached it scientifically. Through steps, progress checks, and self-assessment, I scientifically analyze every step along the way in order to improve my skill level. It is the only way that I know. This juxtaposition between scientific learning for a zen pursuit is staggeringly odd. How could one facilitate the other?
I have come to believe that a method of scientific learning has limitations: It is subject to the understand of what has happened before, not what is happening, and what will be happening in the future. Just because something has continued to work in the past by no means gives justification for the belief that it will happen again in the future. This world is very complex, it is filled with surprise and mystique. There are so many things that we try to know about the universe, which are undeniably difficult, if not impossible to learn through a scientific method. In these cases, intuition, gut feelings, and subconscious thought really do a lot to define the truths of this world. Intuitions tell not of the past, but of the present and the future. Although sometimes less predictable than scientific evidence, the success rate of intuition is staggeringly high for something that requires no thought and no evidence to acquire.
This past weekend was filled with premonition, and doubt. I was getting ready to skydive Saturday morning, and had the strangest feeling that something was going to go horribly wrong. I did a couple more practices of my emergency procedures to prepare myself, but kept feeling some sort of voice in the back of my head warning me about the next jump. It wasn't telling me not to jump, but just to be careful. Mind you, these sorts of voices occur all the time while participating in an extreme sport, but this was a little different. More intense, more focused. I decided to go on the jump anyway, as I recklessly thought that life is too short to listen to all the voices anyway. (If we stood down every time we were nervous about taking a chance, life would be exceptionally boring). The jump was wonderful. I led a tracking dive on my back and two of my friends came in and docked on either side of me in a V formation as we flew a little more than a mile south of the airport. When it came time to open my parachute, however, things started to go even further south. I opened in a track, to ensure proper separation from my fellow jumpers (canopy collision during or directly after opening is one of the leading causes of death in skydiving). This type of opening caused my parachute to come out much faster. Apparently I had a weak point in the fabric, because when it inflated, with a "snap", the parachute spun up violently and as I looked up I noticed a large hole in the bottom skin of the parachute. It was about a foot in diameter, and caused my parachute to turn to the left on its own. Luckily, I was still able to land the parachute with the hole, but it was a very gripping experience.
My adrenaline had kicked in and I found the peaceful state of mind that (for me) accompanies being in stressful and extreme situations. I was able to act quickly and safely to prevent injury and/or further damage. I even landed in-bounds next to the runway, despite having to fly a mile back under an injured wing. However, it wasn't until that night, several hours later, when I realized that I had a premonition which accurately predicted the intensity of the situation. A voice had told me something would go wrong, and it did. This is obvious evidence of the power of intuition and gut feelings. In this case, the feelings were right. How could empirical data have predicted the failing of my parachute? Even worse, how could something completely unaffiliated with the construction of my canopy and the circumstances of its failure adequately predict the level of danger I was placing myself in? I would disregard it if this had not happened before, but it happens often.
Premonition is a powerful tool in the backcountry as well. When climbing high altitude peaks, traversing through avalanche terrain, crawling to the exit point of a BASE jump, the internal dialogue with your surroundings is very real. Countless stories of dramatic events in the backcountry are accompanied by descriptions of dreams foreshadowing the future, of premonitions, or just general gut-wrenching feelings. Usually, these feelings are right. It is very difficult to believe that these have any real effect on the events because we are brought up in such a scientific world, with a mechanistic understanding of events and how they unfold. But let's take a look at the origins of western thought, and the understanding of knowledge.
In Meno, an ancient text discussing the meaning of virtue, Socrates is simultaneously explaining to his interlocutor the origins of knowledge. After all, how could one know about virtue if one didn't know about knowing first? (typical Socratic nonsense). But there are a few gems in what he has to say. One of the classic examples of this occurs in the interaction between Socrates and a slave boy. Socrates asks the slave boy simple questions about geometry, questions that are easily answered by the boy. Socrates asks a few more difficult questions, and the slave boy struggles a bit, but comes up with the answer on his own. Socrates finally asks a very difficult question, and the slave boy admits that he does not know the answer. However, Socrates is persistent. Through a few leading questions from Socrates, the boy is able to show that he knows the answer. Admittedly, this sounds a lot more like teaching to me, but Socrates portrays the following message from this discussion: "learning is not a matter of discovering something new but rather of recollecting something the soul knew before birth but has since forgotten". The slave boy is able to discover the answers to the geometric questions which Socrates asks, and this is because the boy knew the answer all along, he simply had to recollect the answer.
Although Socrates redirects this to a discussion of virtue, it is very influential in the understanding of premonitions as well, mainly: where do these ideas of the future come from, if not from scientific evidence? Perhaps, as with the case of the boy, we already know the answers to the questions that we have every day. Why are we here? Can I fly? How can I best show my love for another person? Every time we ask a question, we can search inside ourselves to find the answer. Every time we have a problem, we can search inside ourselves to find a solution. This is what Socrates is saying. In the case of recollection of the future, we are simply searching inside ourselves for what we already know. We already know how why we are here, we already know if we can fly, we already know how we will die and how we will live. It is simply a matter of pursuing the right experiences in our life that will show us what we already know. By putting ourselves in the right situations, we can easily discover the answers. This is where gut feelings and premonitions come from. This is where remembering the future takes place. You can't depend on scientific data to show you the way of your world.
I'm not saying this is the right interpretation, but it is one interpretation. I would get severely ridiculed if I actually claimed that I could predict the future because I already know the future. But this isn't the right way to look at it. Instead, we can use premonitions and thoughts of the future as tools. Each time we are gifted with the ability to lucidly observe events that will happen, we should use it to our advantage, to help make our lives better. Each time we are gifted with a recollection of the future, we should see how that helps us answer the deepest questions that we have in this life. These are tools to assist us to become the best possible beings we can. These are tools that open our eyes to the inside of ourselves, and the inside of others. The recollection of the future is an important part of seeing the real world, and loving all of the beings inside it.
A quote from chapter 33 in the Tao Te Ching:
Knowing others is wisdom;
Knowing the self is enlightenment.
Mastering others requires force;
Mastering the self requires strength;
He who knows he has enough is rich.
Perseverance is a sign of will power.
He who stays where he is endures.
To die but not to perish is to be eternally present.
Knowing the self is enlightenment.
Mastering others requires force;
Mastering the self requires strength;
He who knows he has enough is rich.
Perseverance is a sign of will power.
He who stays where he is endures.
To die but not to perish is to be eternally present.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Breaking in the Camera
I recently hit 25,000 shutter actuations on my Nikon, 1/4 of the lifespan of the body. I guess it is a good thing and a bad thing. At least the thing will be nearly obsolete in another 3 years when I finish it off.
In other news I shot some photos of a break dancing event in Boulder this week. Here are the results:
In other news I shot some photos of a break dancing event in Boulder this week. Here are the results:
From a Different Perspective
Looking at the world from a different set of eyes. Up high, in secret places with smiling faces.
It amazes me that so many people are unhappy with their stagnant lifestyles and boring jobs. The only entertainment and pleasure they have is from fruitless endeavors such as drinking and watching way too much television. There are so many opportunities for adventure in our backyards. There are so many ways to entertain oneself by simply exploring the city, exploring the neighborhood, exploring the forest. Getting out and seeing the world through your own eyes, through direct experience, through positive interactions with friends and with complete strangers; this is a fun way to spend a weekend! It is easy to look at the world as simple objects which are there but have no effect on your life. Look again. Everything that is in this world is here for a reason, but you can never be sure what that reason is until you explore it! The big factory could be an old relic of the industrial revolution, or it could be the most beautiful playground ever designed. The abandoned mine could be an old relic of the gold rush, or it could be the cave you always dreamed of in your youth. Look at the world from a different set of eyes! Everything can be an adventure if you make it one. You don't have to plan out long expensive trips to far away countries. Some of the most beautiful places in the world are right behind you; you simply need to remember to do the double-take, and go from there...
It amazes me that so many people are unhappy with their stagnant lifestyles and boring jobs. The only entertainment and pleasure they have is from fruitless endeavors such as drinking and watching way too much television. There are so many opportunities for adventure in our backyards. There are so many ways to entertain oneself by simply exploring the city, exploring the neighborhood, exploring the forest. Getting out and seeing the world through your own eyes, through direct experience, through positive interactions with friends and with complete strangers; this is a fun way to spend a weekend! It is easy to look at the world as simple objects which are there but have no effect on your life. Look again. Everything that is in this world is here for a reason, but you can never be sure what that reason is until you explore it! The big factory could be an old relic of the industrial revolution, or it could be the most beautiful playground ever designed. The abandoned mine could be an old relic of the gold rush, or it could be the cave you always dreamed of in your youth. Look at the world from a different set of eyes! Everything can be an adventure if you make it one. You don't have to plan out long expensive trips to far away countries. Some of the most beautiful places in the world are right behind you; you simply need to remember to do the double-take, and go from there...
Out for a Stroll
I've been slacklining a lot lately, due to the beautiful Colorado weather we've been having. Here are a few photos of the lines I've set up in the last couple weeks.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
BASE Jumping
photo by Heather F.Some friends and I headed up to Twin Falls, ID this last weekend to attend what is often called a "boogie", where dozens of jumpers get together and try to out-macho themselves by making bad decisions, performing advanced aerials, swooping and stalling canopies, and narrowly adverting horrendous accidents. Having a propensity for misadventure, I naturally had to go.
The tradition of carnage and close-calls was upheld as many people pulled too low, fell through other canopies in freefall, and so on. This was certainly an eye opening trip for me, and helped to solidify my ideas of BASE jumping as a fruitful endeavor.
photo by Heather F.I decided to take a short break from jumping on Sunday and took some photos of my friends instead. After seeing a few very close calls, I became worried that I would make some of the same mistakes. After all, the majority of BASE fatalities have been due to human error. So what are my reasons for jumping? And how do I justify the enormous risks involved?
I think a liberated state of mind is what compels me to jump the most. The clear consciousness of near death experiences, although dangerous in its habituation, is a beautiful thing. Focusing on nothingness, even for a few fleeting moments, is invaluable to me. For the same reason that I pursue highlining (which scared the piss out of me the first few times as well), I also find solace in the mindfulness provided by BASE jumping. The quiet flapping of nylon above my head, soft grass crunching beneath my feet on landing, the meditative action of packing a parachute, getting the folds just right, closing the container in a certain way, all of these things are the simple pleasures that appeal to me.
photo by Heather F.But there is more than just the state of mind associated with BASE jumping. Finding a spiritual connection to your actions is worth so much more than the actions themselves. Succumbing myself to the act of falling, the wind whipping through my hair, the firm shout of canopy inflation, leaving the earth and returning to it once again, it really connects one to the world. I know everyone's reasons are different, some jump for fame, some jump so that they can do something that very few in the world will ever do. These are fun reasons, but I don't think they outweigh the risks involved. Putting oneself in harm's way simply for the accolades of others is reckless and irresponsible. I think all jumpers can say that there is further meaning behind their desire to jump. I'm not quite sure what that meaning is, but I know it is there. Like an astronomer piecing together glimpses of a black hole, the reason I jump is difficult to put a finger on. Some evidence is there, but it doesn't fit together; some desire is there, but it isn't completely understood. However uncertain I may be, I realize that as long as I search for the extra pieces of the puzzle, as long as I evolve, as long as I can safely stand at an exit point and question my existence, the jump is worth it. It brings me closer to a goal that is not objective or definite, but one that is being shaped by my very existence. There certainly isn't one singular path which is the most ethical or responsible. To live my life to its fullest potential, I have to constantly grow in my understanding of myself, and my understanding of the world. BASE jumping allows me to do this, and so is an industrious pastime.
I still get pangs of fear and glimpses of disaster every time I climb over the railing, but these are inundated by the understanding that I will be a different person when I land on the ground, and hopefully, a better person.
photo by Heather F.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Imagine, Part 3
Imagine, there are big holes in the earth. Craters without a bottom, shafts without an end, tunnels with no destination. You cannot see these holes, but you know that they are there. These holes have a singular destination: zen, dharma, oneness, mindfulness, actionless action, prayer, whatever you like to call it. As you walk through the earth, and experience its greatness, you can sometimes fall into the holes, into a different world. A world where everything is the same living, breathing, creature. A world where you understand that being alive is a gift and you are thankful for that gift. A world where you see the billions of stars as a singular, incandescent ball of firey life that warms the heart. Some places do not have these holes, while others have a very thin crust waiting to be collapsed. Living your life in a mindful way means walking through the earth and finding all the places where the crust is thin, where there are holes that you can fall into consciousness. Imagine living a life in this way, and you can live every day as a challenge, and as a gift.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Blind Ambition
I did some climbing this last weekend, and with the absence of sunglasses, my eyes became really sunburnt, to the point of mild snow blindness. The whole beginning of the week I could barely function due to the pain in my eyes. It was as if someone poured a bucket of sand all over them. Despite the painful aftereffects, the actual climbing itself was amazing. Here are a few pictures, and a link to my friend Scot's trip report.
Scot's Trip Report
Scot's Trip Report
Friday, May 15, 2009
Scary Saturday
Have you ever had one of those days where something happens that makes you feel lucky to be alive, twice? Last Saturday I had to take two of my friends to the emergency room for various accidents. They weren't really life threatening, but they could have been devastatingly worse. It takes a lot of courage to step back and ask the question: why are we doing these things? What responsibility do we have to others to be safe in our pursuit of passion, and what responsibility do we have to ourselves? This question is very open ended, but the answer usually points to the fact that climbing, skydiving, highlining, BASE jumping, are all very selfish activities.
Though I am still a humble novice in all of these sports, they provide me with the zest for life that is rarely encountered in day to day life. I have been around climbing for several years, and it has become an integral part of my existence. The fluid motion of constant movement over rock is very peaceful and relaxing. Lately I have been climbing easier and longer routes without a rope; only myself and the rock. Confidence on familiar terrain allows me to ascend without difficulty, and the freedom allows me to enjoy it. Most would be scared being unroped, a thousand feet above the greening grass of Chautauqua park; for me, I can only smile. I am able to do what I love most.
Skydiving and BASE jumping are perhaps my newest and most selfish pastimes. Paying hundreds of dollars a month to be ferried up to 17,000 feet above sea level in a twin engine otter seems outrageous to my hopelessly poor college peers. However, I somehow find a way to pay for all my necessities, and more, by working steadily and saving money for things that I love. I once compared with a friend and found that by not drinking more than a few beers throughout college, I have spent about the same on jumping as most CU students spend on alcohol. Which seems more selfish? Even so, it is hard to justify paying money for something that lasts, at best, a minute or less. Is it financially responsible for me to spend thousands of dollars a year on this alleged freefall "addiction"? No. But is it really wrong for me to do these things? This is debatable.
My entrance into the world of zen was earned through my pursuit of highlining. Perhaps the scariest of all the extreme sports (even my friends at the GoFast games thought I was a little crazy), albeit one of the safest, highlining forces one to abandon all fear, hope, desire, eagerness, etc. and adhere to the process of simply doing. Through higher and longer lines I learned to control my fear, ignore it, and turn it into the simple action of taking a step. I have been able to accomplish mild and mediocre achievements that I would never have thought possible when I was a big-eyed high school student scrapping up enough cash to buy my first set of quickdraws and cams. The highest lines in the world have been turned into banal strands of nylon under my chaffed and eager feet. My nonchalance of the danger comes not from any mental fortitude that I may have, or any physical skill, but simply from my desire to do what makes me happy. My delusional confidence arises from a faint desire to exist in my most natural state. This allows for any feat to be accomplished.
It is with this attitude that I approach the activities which I hold so close to my heart. I simply strive to be myself, and being myself entails doing these activities in my most natural state. I get frustrated when old friends and mentors look at me and think that I am crazy. They ask each other, at what point in the last four years did I go wrong? Where did I become such an adrenaline junkie? This couldn't be further from the truth. Adrenaline is an unfortunate by-product of these sports. It clouds judgment and takes me further from the peace of mind that I so readily embrace. They should be asking me, at what point in the last four years did I go right? Even this is an inaccurate question to ask, but it is a better one. In my opinion there are a few defining events in my life throughout the last four years, but none of them have single-handedly taken responsibility for where I am now. Where am I now? I'm only just a few mental steps away from my maturity level in high school. I still haven't accomplished anything worth noting, and I still haven't become the best at anything that I do. But I don't really want these things. What I have done is defined what makes me happy, and acted on these definitions to the best of my ability. In essence, I do what I do for myself, and not for the entertainment of others. Unfortunately, this is the definition of selfishness.
I hate being called crazy, because I am not crazy. I get a sinking feeling when I visit the people I looked up to only four years ago, the people who first began to spark my interest in the outdoors, the people who taught me how to live my life for myself. They all look at me now like I am a nutter, I'm out for cheap thrills and good bar tales. This saddens me because the very people who shaped my life no longer understand it. This even includes my family and my closest friends. I am constantly trying to explain myself, but am often without the words to do so. I can't tell anyone why I would climb without a rope, or walk a line a half mile above solid ground, or jump out of an airplane. While I'm still not very good at any of these things, I do them, and I don't have a reason why. I do them because they fill a gap in my life that nothing else can fill. They provide different facets of pleasure in a gem of existence. Do they help me to become a better person? Yes. Do they help me to become better than anyone else? Of course not. This isn't a battle to one-up the next guy, or do the most dangerous and extreme stunt imaginable. It is a battle to bury my own primordial doubt and replace it with happiness. It is a battle to define who I am and become the most passionate man I can be. I'm not crazy, I'm calculated and scientific, and free.
So despite the inherent and often publicized danger in all of these passions of mine, I cannot help acting upon these very human desires for adventure that I have. Instances such as the injuries I saw on Saturday, although detrimental to the adventurous spirits of my injured friends, only add fuel to the fire, for all of us. I'm sure once Jeff recovers from his surgery he will be more active than ever, and Joe has already scabbed up and been down several treacherous ski descents this week. I cannot put words to the song of passion, I can only dream, and experience the truth of my existence. I feel obligated to look out for the best interests of my family and loved ones, but I cannot stop doing what I love to do. Ceasing to do that which I enjoy would be a worse fate than dying in the midst of it. I cannot help but jump off things, walk in the sky, and ascend into the clouds. It is my nature. It is what makes me human. To call me crazy, to say I should not pursue these passions, to think that I am selfish and irresponsible, this attitude is a blind perspective to the truth of my bliss. I hope that now, by reading this, people understand why I do what I do, and can hopefully empathize with it. Thanks for taking the time to read what I have to say.
Though I am still a humble novice in all of these sports, they provide me with the zest for life that is rarely encountered in day to day life. I have been around climbing for several years, and it has become an integral part of my existence. The fluid motion of constant movement over rock is very peaceful and relaxing. Lately I have been climbing easier and longer routes without a rope; only myself and the rock. Confidence on familiar terrain allows me to ascend without difficulty, and the freedom allows me to enjoy it. Most would be scared being unroped, a thousand feet above the greening grass of Chautauqua park; for me, I can only smile. I am able to do what I love most.
Skydiving and BASE jumping are perhaps my newest and most selfish pastimes. Paying hundreds of dollars a month to be ferried up to 17,000 feet above sea level in a twin engine otter seems outrageous to my hopelessly poor college peers. However, I somehow find a way to pay for all my necessities, and more, by working steadily and saving money for things that I love. I once compared with a friend and found that by not drinking more than a few beers throughout college, I have spent about the same on jumping as most CU students spend on alcohol. Which seems more selfish? Even so, it is hard to justify paying money for something that lasts, at best, a minute or less. Is it financially responsible for me to spend thousands of dollars a year on this alleged freefall "addiction"? No. But is it really wrong for me to do these things? This is debatable.
My entrance into the world of zen was earned through my pursuit of highlining. Perhaps the scariest of all the extreme sports (even my friends at the GoFast games thought I was a little crazy), albeit one of the safest, highlining forces one to abandon all fear, hope, desire, eagerness, etc. and adhere to the process of simply doing. Through higher and longer lines I learned to control my fear, ignore it, and turn it into the simple action of taking a step. I have been able to accomplish mild and mediocre achievements that I would never have thought possible when I was a big-eyed high school student scrapping up enough cash to buy my first set of quickdraws and cams. The highest lines in the world have been turned into banal strands of nylon under my chaffed and eager feet. My nonchalance of the danger comes not from any mental fortitude that I may have, or any physical skill, but simply from my desire to do what makes me happy. My delusional confidence arises from a faint desire to exist in my most natural state. This allows for any feat to be accomplished.
It is with this attitude that I approach the activities which I hold so close to my heart. I simply strive to be myself, and being myself entails doing these activities in my most natural state. I get frustrated when old friends and mentors look at me and think that I am crazy. They ask each other, at what point in the last four years did I go wrong? Where did I become such an adrenaline junkie? This couldn't be further from the truth. Adrenaline is an unfortunate by-product of these sports. It clouds judgment and takes me further from the peace of mind that I so readily embrace. They should be asking me, at what point in the last four years did I go right? Even this is an inaccurate question to ask, but it is a better one. In my opinion there are a few defining events in my life throughout the last four years, but none of them have single-handedly taken responsibility for where I am now. Where am I now? I'm only just a few mental steps away from my maturity level in high school. I still haven't accomplished anything worth noting, and I still haven't become the best at anything that I do. But I don't really want these things. What I have done is defined what makes me happy, and acted on these definitions to the best of my ability. In essence, I do what I do for myself, and not for the entertainment of others. Unfortunately, this is the definition of selfishness.
I hate being called crazy, because I am not crazy. I get a sinking feeling when I visit the people I looked up to only four years ago, the people who first began to spark my interest in the outdoors, the people who taught me how to live my life for myself. They all look at me now like I am a nutter, I'm out for cheap thrills and good bar tales. This saddens me because the very people who shaped my life no longer understand it. This even includes my family and my closest friends. I am constantly trying to explain myself, but am often without the words to do so. I can't tell anyone why I would climb without a rope, or walk a line a half mile above solid ground, or jump out of an airplane. While I'm still not very good at any of these things, I do them, and I don't have a reason why. I do them because they fill a gap in my life that nothing else can fill. They provide different facets of pleasure in a gem of existence. Do they help me to become a better person? Yes. Do they help me to become better than anyone else? Of course not. This isn't a battle to one-up the next guy, or do the most dangerous and extreme stunt imaginable. It is a battle to bury my own primordial doubt and replace it with happiness. It is a battle to define who I am and become the most passionate man I can be. I'm not crazy, I'm calculated and scientific, and free.
So despite the inherent and often publicized danger in all of these passions of mine, I cannot help acting upon these very human desires for adventure that I have. Instances such as the injuries I saw on Saturday, although detrimental to the adventurous spirits of my injured friends, only add fuel to the fire, for all of us. I'm sure once Jeff recovers from his surgery he will be more active than ever, and Joe has already scabbed up and been down several treacherous ski descents this week. I cannot put words to the song of passion, I can only dream, and experience the truth of my existence. I feel obligated to look out for the best interests of my family and loved ones, but I cannot stop doing what I love to do. Ceasing to do that which I enjoy would be a worse fate than dying in the midst of it. I cannot help but jump off things, walk in the sky, and ascend into the clouds. It is my nature. It is what makes me human. To call me crazy, to say I should not pursue these passions, to think that I am selfish and irresponsible, this attitude is a blind perspective to the truth of my bliss. I hope that now, by reading this, people understand why I do what I do, and can hopefully empathize with it. Thanks for taking the time to read what I have to say.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Going the Distance
I have been really excited about marathon slacklining lately. This is the act of getting on a long slackline (longer than 200 feet) and walking the line back and forth multiple times until one can no longer walk. It is difficult at first, but the oneness and meditative peace that accompanies this activity is unmatched. Walking a long, difficult slackline for up to an hour, or more, takes great mental and physical stamina, but also helps to tear away protective layers of you soul to expose your true being to the world, and to yourself. Here are a few photos from a longline session Josh and I had in Cheesman Park (Denver) last week.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Imagine, Part 2
Imagine you are a candle, sitting in a row of several. Only one is lit, while others are untouched and perfect. Once there was a match, and that match lit the first candle. Your body and mind manifested in that candle, and it shone brightly. You learned about wick and wax, you learned how to dance in the wind, and how to burrow in the wax to avoid it. You learned how to keep the wax around you hot enough to sustain flame, without consuming too much of your body. You learned about life, you learned about war, you learned about beauty, you learned about death. Through the bright fragrance of life you lived the best you could, and the match was not in vain.
Eventually, the body was used up, but the hand that lit the match then transferred your flame to a new candle. The burning lust for life maintained, but was now manifested in a new body. New lessons were learned, and old ones were remembered. You learned how to further preserve the wax, and learned how to burn through your body with a slower pace. Again the candle was eventually consumed, and you were transferred to another. This time you learned how to burn even slower, but also learned how to burn with increased luminescence. Brighter and more slowly you burned. Again and again the candle was eventually extinguished, each time the duration of existence becoming longer, and the light becoming brighter. Eventually you learned how to maintain life within the candle without using any of the body, and you maintain perfect light forever. The hand with the match no longer needs to assist in your reincarnation, and instead lies at rest in your eternal peace.
Imagine that you live each day in this way, not as a candle but instead as a human. Further extending your intellectual stamina and luminescence. Eventually your body will expire, but your mind and experiences will be eternal.
Imagine.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Imagine, Part 1
You are sitting down, in the cool grass of spring. A light wind tussles your hair, but not enough to notice. Imagine you are sitting there, eyes closed, seeing the red and black illusions of the imprints of light on your retina. Focus blurs, and the weight of your body subsides. You are sitting on the top of the Earth, it falling away on all sides. The senses of sight, touch, smell, taste, hearing, all dissipate in intense focus. But you aren't focused on anything at all. Imagine, as you sit there, your legs drip away into the earth, followed by your arms and torso and head. Rivulets of skin and bone melt into the one object that sustains all life. You inhale, and the earth expands. You exhale, and the earth contracts. The tides are your sweat, moving from place to place to cool off the body. The clouds form from the evaporated sweat, and then rain down in continued sweet perspiration. Imagine as you sit there, you sink deeper and deeper into the earth, knowing nothing, but everything. You travel everywhere and nowhere simultaneously. As you sit there in the earth, searching, you fall and rise, you fly and sink, you die and become eternal, you fight and submit. Imagine you are at peace so that you don't know everything, like you wanted to, but realize that you don't need to know everything. Imagine you are at peace so that knowledge is meaningless, but awareness and fluid thought are omniscience. Imagine you sink further into the earth. You are hot, molten in temperature. All life surrounds you, but cannot survive without your heat. You steam and rupture, you boil and fly towards the surface, landing in a barren land of rock and sand, devoid of life. You sink into the earth again with powerful thought and uninterrupted concentration, and grass sprouts, flowers emerge, the desert turns into a meadow, a beautiful sanctuary of life. It spreads as fast as destruction, and continues past visible comprehension. Trees blossom and petals fall onto your concentration. Your disturbed thought is interrupted by pure beauty, and you are overcome by bliss.
Imagine.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
I love Life
I've been loving life more than ever lately, things just seem to be going my way. Even the bad luck I have here and there is so quickly outweighed by the wonderful adventures of life that I don't even notice the bad things anymore. I was inspired to put together a video of all of the awesome adventures I've had in the last few years that I managed to take random clips of.
Click here for the video on youtube...
Thanks so much to everyone who has provided support and love for my life and my adventures. I love this world more than I could possibly describe. Sometimes I want to shout it from the top of the world, and other times I want to ponder it in silent reverence. This is the scope of the appreciation I have for everything that we have here in this life.
Click here for the video on youtube...
Thanks so much to everyone who has provided support and love for my life and my adventures. I love this world more than I could possibly describe. Sometimes I want to shout it from the top of the world, and other times I want to ponder it in silent reverence. This is the scope of the appreciation I have for everything that we have here in this life.
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