Me. Moab.
This past week I had a major event in my life come to fruition. I’m not going to be specific about what it was but it’s something that’s been brewing for quite some time, and it’s something I’ve desperately wanted for one of my closest friends. Now that it’s happened and the emotional dust is starting to settle, I know all too well what has to happen.
A few years ago a friend asked me a question related to how I perceive myself. The question was “what element of nature best describes me?” I had some knee jerk reactions of course but the question was so thought provoking (to me anyhow) I spent weeks pondering it. For zillions of reasons I eventually came up with a “river”. The true reasons I chose river are complicated, but then again, they’re pretty simple.
Maybe this will help explain my choice a little better. The Grand Canyon is primarily known for the heart stopping rapids such as Lava Falls, Crystal, etc and people pay insane amounts of money to power through the canyon on enormous flotilla type rigs just to get a taste of what those rapids are all about. Never mind that 90% of that river is flat water because those three or four gigantic engines mounted astern your J-Rig can get you to the action in no time! Of course if you’re sitting atop one of those things you have a large buffer between you and the actual river and much of the real action is filtered out. Not saying it’s a bad thing, it just another form of this “instant gratification society” we live in.
However, my personal take on the Grand Canyon is it’s not just all about the rapids, but it’s comprised of all 225 miles of river, some exhilarating and some calm and serene. In my vision of how to process the canyon, the 200 miles of flat water are equally, if not more important than all the fast paced stuff. It’s the time of reflection and introspection between periods of turmoil, something crucial we tend to overlook in our lives.
This dual sided view is where the similarities of a river and how I live my life merge. The way I choose to live my life is to crush it when I can, then slow down and reflect on it when the opportunity to do so presents itself. Despite the pace most people seem to think I keep, I truly like to drift slowly sometimes. I love to watch the canyon walls slowly go by, hear the birds, smell the Russian Olives along the river, study an eddy pool, cast a fly into the money spot, fall into the natural rhythms of the universe and truly, truly enjoy the moment at hand.
Yeah, I admit it, I do like some rapids for the most part. I love jumping out there every once in a while and slurping up the adrenaline of ice climbing, backcountry skiing, mountaineering, mountain biking, etc. However, for the past couple of years I’ve found myself in some serious “life rapids”, some that haven’t been all that fun at times. It’s been an almost constant battle to keep my boat upright and admittedly there were a couple of times when I found myself swimming in some pretty scary water. I’ll even add that a time or two I’d get caught in a hydraulic and would get pulled down and get emotionally bashed on the rocks a little. Nevertheless, being a perpetual student of the river, I knew not to fight the power of the current, but try to relax and trust that clarity and calmer water would come. Sometimes easier said than done.
Sometimes that clarity comes in the form of acceptance. I was recently described by a person as “fiercely compassionate”. The person who described me as such is someone who I hold an incredible amount of respect for so I took it in stride and tried my best to understand exactly what that meant. This person knows how fiercely loyal I am to my family, my true friends and my chosen humanitarian causes, probably better than anyone. Because of that “ferocity” of loyalty to my closest friends, well, let’s just say I’d voluntarily pushed out into some crazy ass rapids and was going for it.
Finding myself in these rapids, rapids like I’d never experienced before, I tried to practice everything I knew about the river and did my best to relax and not fight the power of the current. As a boatman, you have to balance the visceral pull to do everything you can to help your swimmer with that of keeping yourself and everyone else in your boat safe. It’s a very fine line and sometimes when you’re engaging a leviathan of whitewater, it gets even finer.
In this instance, the person who described me as “fiercely compassionate” was standing on the shore with a throw bag and when they saw the potentially disastrous water ahead (water I simply couldn’t see coming) they threw the bag and pulled me out. Despite my desire and efforts, I had to accept that my direction was far too sketchy and I needed to pull up. Oh, I was pissed at this person, really pissed actually, but after just a little thought I realized they were right in doing what they did, totally right. Looking back, I can’t thank that person enough.
Now I find myself coming back into calm water and for the first time in a while I can take a breath. This two year run of rapids has finally started to ebb and though it was likely the most intensely emotional stretch of my life thusfar, I’ve gained a better understanding of myself and learned to sincerely accept the things I simply can’t control. Never an easy task but one of the most important things I’ve learned.
I’ve always been a believer in living life on the periphery because that’s where the action is. It’s sometimes fast, oftentimes wild, and being out there always puts you at risk of getting slung off…but it’s where I want to be. And being out there makes me appreciate the calm times so much more. For the most part I’m pretty good at balancing the two realms…just like I equally enjoy all aspect of the river.
Now I think it’s time for me to drift for a bit. It’s time to kick back with the fam and enjoy some of those simple things in life. I’m super stoked about some humanitarian work I’m involved with at Mountain2Mountain and can’t wait to dive head first into that. And I really need to spend some quality time in the backcountry with a couple of incredible friends and tell them just how important they’ve been lately and how much they’re appreciated…because I’m fiercely loyal like that.
Ski hard. Paddle far. Run long. Live big.
