Resisting

I remember the last night. We had gotten our cheeseburgers. We were mere hours from the bus ride to the airport. The mountain we had peaked was across the lake. A cloud hung over it like a check mark. The instructors had let us camp without our tarps, and for the first night that month, I actually saw the stars.

Jon and I stared at the sky for 6 hours that night.

We whispered about aliens and the future, and together we counted meteors and planes and satellites, moving stars with no other explanation. We lost count after 60, before the clear skies opened up to the first rain in 3 weeks. 

But something is WRONG! Something is not right. There was no rush of natural adrenaline, no sense of victory, no high or abundant happiness at all.

Success brought nothing. I am exhausted, and despite being totally accomplished, a little disappointed. This was supposed to be so much more. I sit for a few minutes, and beg the landscape to drug me with happiness. A city lies in the distance and I long to be there with running hot water and a Gameboy in my hand.

Soon, so very soon, I think to myself. Once everybody else gets up here, we can finally start heading down, and heading home. I share a snack with Jon, and wait.

2 hours pass, but it felt like 5 minutes. Jon’s slipping over the edge and it’s my turn. There was no epiphany, and now I’m leaving this view forever. I may never climb another mountain again. A deep breath, and I swing my leg over and suddenly it all rushes back. The adrenaline, the fear, the panic and excitement and all at once my body is resonating with feeling.

I make my way down the cliff. My trucker’s knot slips. I curse my instructors reassuring words. If I slip now, I’m dead. Another deep breath. Nothing to look forward to but home. A step down. How I long for a cheeseburger! Another step. How I long to leave this vicious trip! Step. My mind is whirring out all the possibilities of the past, the future, who put me here, why, why, why. Step. In every second I’m trying to forget where I am. Step. Don’t look down. Step. Oh god. Step. Oh my god, oh my god. Step. 

And suddenly there’s a blissful silence. I guess my mind ran out of things to think and now it’s pleading me to get me out of here. All I can think is down. Must get down. Keep going down. And finally, I’m there, and Jon’s beside me. There’s no room for smiles. We just clip ourselves in and wait for the others. Staring off into the distance, over a cliff drop thousands of feet in the air. I feel an odd sensation. The adrenaline has slowed. The shock of the height no longer affected me. I was on top of the world and I had conquered my last fear. Have I won? I beat my way through isolation, fear, anger and frustration. I rejected hatred, and learned to love my mates without judgement and prejudice. I’d pulled them through the worst times. We had cried together. Shared the same experiences, the bug bites and the painful walks. We had lived together.

And now we were leaving. Going together, to separate and head home. I grew 10 years that week. These kids had watched me, and grown with me. They were the only one’s who truly knew me. And I would never talk to any of them ever again.

I’m going to post a TON in the next week.

Like, a TON.

Starting off!

Do I want to hike? Backpack across the Earth? Meeting anyone and everyone. One of, if not the most diverse group of people you can find? To walk trails seen by few and filled with nature? To climb peaks in search of the high of the high, the exhilarating breath of air, the pull of the mountain and the final moment when you at last hoist yourself to the top of it…

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Spinning myself in a circle, I realize that the fear has left me. I did it, I’m done. From this moment forth, I am heading home. Passed the most difficult part of the journey, I take a deep breath and sit down, staring off into the distance. The view is extraordinary, that I can’t argue, everything is just as I imagined. 

Ever think that, that guy buying underwear at Walmart is probably going Commando?

I’m going to use this as a quote dump for future songs, writings, skits, or comedy acts that I write in the future.

I feel like Death himself. The epitome of uselessness. Nothing.

And perfectly content about it.

jackiejeneanne:

Things don’t always work out the way I think they will, but they always seem to work out.

Something beautiful. 

Shit becomes so complicated, but it balances out so well.

I feel so close. Closer than ever.

There’s no room for improvement. No room for decisions, either. Words are worthless, as are ideas.

Until they gain enough momentum, of course. The only thing that truly matters is action. We can think of it like motion. 

“And motion, is going eeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaa like this, you see? It’s going to fall out and be gone.

So you can see that you are always at the place where you always are!

It keeps appearing to change!”