I’m sweating.
It’s been a challenge for me to get to this point. I’m not much of a climber, but that’s what we are doing. I’ve pulled my way up the climb, a 5.10a. Pretty much right at my ability to the point that it’s probably above my ability.
The basalt rock is slippery. The temps are reaching toward the 90s and there’s just a hint of humidity. Combine that with the fact that I’m sitting about five feet above the bolt and you know why I’m sweating. The chalk I keep putting on my hands isn’t helping. At this point, it’s more mud than chalk.
I’m stuck. I have one last move to be able to clip the next bolt and then I can rest which I desperately need. The problem is that I have one more move. I’m sitting in a safety zone. My right hand is in a bucket hold, both of my feet are on good ledges and confident and my left hand is just there. I’m extended as far up as I can without losing those three points of contact and I can’t get myself to go for the next move.
A bucket hold in many way is everything you want when you are climbing. It’s big and has a good grip. Think of the handle on a bucket and then convert that into a hole in a rock wall and you pretty much get the idea. Much like the handle on your favorite Home Depot orange bucket, it’s got you covered. In emotional perspective, it is the equivalent of a warm hug from your mom. It’s a safe place. You know you can hang on for days and that’s usually what happens. You just sit there, hanging, waiting for something to coax you out of the bucket. You want the safety of that hold and for inexperienced climbers like myself, it’s incredibly difficult to leave.
Hanging from my bucket hold I’ve placed myself in a precarious position. I refuse to leave the hold, but I’ve also gone as far up as I can without leaving it. My body is off balance and I’ve pretty much frozen. I know what is going to happen even as I try to keep it from occurring. I’m going to fall.
It’s a simple post.
There’s a photo in an office with a guy grinning from ear to ear. The caption tells the story of slaving away at a hated job and that they had finally had enough and took the leap. They are now unemployed but happy as ever and looking forward to whatever it is that they have planned or not planned. Below the caption are numerous quips of congratulations and even some longing from those commenting to be able to do the same thing. It’s unanimously accepted that this person has made the right choice and everyone is ecstatic for them.
It begs the question then, why did they stay so long? What is it that keeps us in lockstep with the norms of our lives? It’s not like there was a lot of effort that it takes to say, “I quit. I’m out. I’m doing something else.” I mean it’s easier to say those things than write them and it took a matter of seconds to type that out. The process of walking away is fairly easy and yet, we keep trudging down the same road hoping for a better outcome, thinking that doing the same thing will get us a different result.
I’m obviously oversimplifying this for effect. In reality, we tell ourselves we want something else, but we want the same thing just wish we could have our same lives by doing something else. The vast majority of us stay in the hated job not because we want a different result, but because we want what we are getting, safety. We know what it will be like when we show up for work. We know we’ll get the paycheck at the end of the week. We know that will allow us to pay for the house, the car, the kids, the shit we bought to make ourselves feel better about still working the hated job. It’s known. It’s stable. It’s safe.
What happens if I fail?
The question took way too long to show up in my brain. Mostly because my brain was overly busy exerting all of its facilities to worry about the shit to the point that I could hardly imagine moving let alone doing all the things I needed to do. Once the query appeared it triggered a cascade of logical thought that ended in me shrugging my shoulders and feeling oddly secure.
The dominos fell so to speak. The big overarching worry was not being able to pay my bills. So what would happen if I was unable to make that payment. Well, eventually I would have to sell the car or the house or I would just straight up lose them. What would that look like? Well, I would have to find some other place to live or move back in with my parents. What if that wasn’t a possibility? I guess I could end up with my backpack and small dirt spot that might change from day to day. I wouldn’t have anything I couldn’t carry, but I’d be mostly fine.
Within a few minutes, the questions cascading through my mental space and everything I had had been disposed of and I was living on the streets because I had no job, but I knew I’d be fine. The emotional security this provided was amazing. More importantly, I felt like I was once again in charge. All the things I was worrying about, I didn’t need. Sure I still wanted them, but going through the thought experiment to understand what would happen if I failed made failing seem less of a threat.
Chaos will teach you stoicism.
The above thought experiment happened before I even realized that the philosophy of Stoicism even existed. It was learning that what I had stumbled upon in my existential panic was highly encouraged by this ancient philosophy. One of the main tenants of Stoicism is the idea that you need to be happy with you and what you can control. That comes down to the little bit of space between your two eyes. You can control your thoughts, intentions and attitudes. You must accept everything else.
All the bull shit that modern society tells us we need or that we accumulate to feel safe and comfortable can be taken away in a matter of seconds. Chaos can come sweeping in and drop a house fire on you, then what? Will you be ok? The popo might get a hot tip, false or true, suddenly you find yourself in prison rotting with nothing. Then what?
Safety is an illusion that we can somehow control the outcomes of our inputs. Some of the hardest working folks are also the poorest. Some of the smartest people I’ve met are the ones that can see through the facade and are willing or have walked away at any given point because they know what they truly need. These people tend to scare the shit out of all of us who are desperately clinging to the idea that things will continue the way they are because that’s the way we like them.
Society is a bucket hold.
As my arms reach their point of exhaustion, I know I have to make the next move. My hands are wet, the rock is slippery and there’s scant chance I will get the rope clipped. I finally force myself out of my bucket and reach for the next move. With my body off balance, I almost immediately lose my footing and slide down the face of the rock. My right foot goes right between the rope and the bolt below me and as the force of gravity wrenches my body against the rope, I’m sure that foot is broken.
A few feet later and I come to a springy stop as the dynamic rope arrests my fall and stretches before recoiling. My belayer has done an amazing job not only catching me but ensure my fall is as short as possible and now I just hang with adrenaline and sweat and pain.
I failed and here I sit safely hanging from a rope.
Embrace Chaos. Seek Discomfort.
