One Month

Well, I'm a sentimental person and being in Yosemite for a month seems like a milestone worthy of some kind of update.

I'm climbing, these days, but I'm always comparing myself to people that are climbing harder and better than myself, and I can never accept what I'm doing as an adequate effort. I never feel like I belong with those that are self-professed climbers.

There is a feeling I have that I don't really try as hard as I know I could, and I wonder how much better I'd be if I could find a way to invest myself into climbing 100%.

I have not been on a wide variety of routes, although I've started free-soloing which has opened up the possibility of ticking a lot of routes off in short order.

I have also started to boulder a little bit more, although it's not how I've done it before.

More or less, I am able to incorporate climbing outside into my schedule like you might run an errand. A quick bike ride and I'm at some classic wall or boulder, I climb for a little while, and then go about my day.

I haven't made mention of it until now, but I've reapplied for a job here in the park, and I'm waiting to see how that pans out. I have plans for the future and I will discuss them later.

Right now, I've passed the HR interview and I would have one more manager level interview before being hired. The last time I applied I had made it to the same stage but was not hired.

I'm spending more money than I should or can afford, but I tell myself it's a coping mechanism for when I get discouraged. That it is, but it's a cop-out to let myself keep doing it, so I'm going to try to rein myself back in before it's too late.

I feel lonely sometimes, and I find myself more and more eyeing the ladies around the park, making pretend romances up in my head, but I have to remind myself of what I'm working toward and that a warm body is nice, but not just any will give me the companionship I seek.

So, while I suppose some people would say I'm living the dream, in my own words I would say I'm going to “soldier on”. Not exactly what you would expect someone truly living the dream to say.

I wonder sometimes how I can make people laugh but it comes harder for me to make light of my own situation in a way that makes me laugh. I suppose a sense of humor is just a matter of developing a certain intelligence that is actually apart from its effect.

Life as I live it is still the best that I've experienced. I mean, how can I complain about not working, being outside whenever and as often as I want, eating well and being physically fit? It really is something I'm glad I have brought to myself, and it's nice to know that it's always there for the taking, if I am only willing to reach for it.  

Possibility

Dusk.

I lie on the ground in the open, among the tall grasses and short saplings. I don't stand; only crouch or lie down to avoid presenting my profile. I'm apart from those who pass by mere feet, those tourists and workers and who knows who else, but “them” nonetheless.

A light, a sound; I freeze.

I am not in dire circumstances, mind you, but these are precautions I take nonetheless. I just don't need a concerned tourist reporting a “strange man in the grass” to the law enforcement rangers.

The sound becomes sounds, and the light sweeps spastically. I hear voices, and now footsteps. They're getting closer.

I have willfully placed myself in this particular situation. There are alternative locations, but I am here, several paces from a path, in scrubby foliage. My camouflage is dubious.

Foolish, you say? I suppose. Lazy? Most definitely, but those are my hallmarks, and it simply would not do to contradict myself at a time in my life when I am looking to define what I stand for.

There's also a certain exhilarating feeling that accompanies me during these times of heightened insecurity.

It's that familiar feeling of possibility. Its the sixth sense of knowing your life could take a momentous turn, possibly or probably for the worse. It is the precipice.

The precipice is the most exciting place to be. As a moment of time, the precipice ranks as one of my favorites. It is that special place that allows for the most imagination. It is the the point in time that strikes the most superior balance of allowing you foresight to your possible future, but without resolution, which is the key to unleashing your imagination (and sometimes trepidation).

You cannot fathom what you are unaware of, therefore you must know where your circumstances are leading to enjoy a certain level of prescience. However, once set on a course, by nature and virtue of being on a course, you know where it may lead—how it may resolve. Inevitability carries its own significance, but I don't enjoy that feeling, not nearly as much.

Of course, the precipice is also where you begin a climb. And when you stand at the base of a great precipice, your mind can run wild with possible outcomes. Certainly, you may wish for a certain conclusion, and the fact that the precipice sets up the possibility of mutually exclusive outcomes is part of its allure.

I live now, more than I have before, in a continual state of being on the precipice.

The light is fickle and momentary, then gone. The children, the tourists have crunch-crunched the gravel all the way past me. Their high-pitched chattering fades. I am alone again.

I feel like I'm going feral. This would be a good thing. It feeds into my pre-existing self-concept. I have playfully over the years thought of myself as a “manimal” (credit to me, though I think I've seen the term used before), with man used in the general sense. I would describe the feeling like this: you operate comfortably and naturally in primitive conditions. I'm trying to relate the idea that sometimes you can surprise yourself with your innate ability to adapt to a wild environment. It's an almost animal quality. I think that may be why travel shines so bright in the eyes of so many. For travel is the opportunity to adapt and thrive in a new, “wild” place. It is an opportunity to be resourceful. 

And that is what I find myself yearning for, is a chance to thrive. An opportunity to see how I will deal with an environment heretofore unexperienced. Once my course is set, however, I lose interest, as the outcome becomes more inflexible. I'm learning this about myself as I type, stream of consciousness. But it's true. Sometimes, seeking opportunity is more enticing than seeking success.

If you know me, you know I'm at least a fatalist, if not a pessimist. But you may not know that I am eternally hopeful. And it is that combination of hope and desire for opportunity that drives my travels and my endeavors. Certainly, I have dreams but I'm not a terribly ambitious person. If I have or will accomplish anything extraordinary, it will be through serendipity, and not sheer force of will.

And so, here I am now; Yosemite. I love the feeling of arriving in a new place and wondering how I will thrive there. That feeling comes and goes in Yosemite, as nothing is certain here. I have settled into several routines since arriving here, and each one I had need to change for different reasons. Until recently, I was sleeping in a pile of boulders that provided good protection from the elements. I was there until a bear or a human (I don't know which) tossed my belongings. Nothing was broken or missing, but everything was displaced and a toiletry case was unzipped in situ but mysteriously unmolested.

This incident necessitated a change of quarters, which led me to my current situation. A storm or bad weather or some other unforeseen event will necessitate the next change.

While it would be easy to become angry or aggravated by these constant changes, it should be evident by now that I in fact, find them to be exciting twists in what could otherwise be a monotonous routine.

Surely, there is inconvenience in each minor upset experienced, and there is uncertainty, but that all leads me back to being on the precipice—a more exciting place to be.