Landscape, Beauty and Exploring the Mysterious

Landscape in and of itself is inspiring, and by inspiring I mean that it pulls from within you a wealth of creativity and love of experience. Some of my favorite naturalist writers such as Muir, Thoreau and Abbey agreed in a way, that there is something in nature--the wild--that cannot be found or felt anywhere else.  

It could be as many have said, a homing impulse, our inner being longing for that freedom and adventure that the wild offered us.  When we tamed ourselves, it seems, we lost something. 

Yesterday a few friend and I made the difficult hike to a place called Sky Pond, a small body of water that sits at 11,000 feet above sea level.  To the left is a mountain known affectionately as Sharkstooth Mountain, which me and one of my friends decided to attempt to climb.  We made it a little over 12,000 feet, and it was the hardest thing physically, mentally, and I would even venture to say emotionally that I've ever done.

I've never been so tired, or felt so helpless to the overwhelming forces of the wild.

Ultimately I was on my feet for 9 hours, 13 miles, and climbed over 5,500 ft of elevation gain.

A few things go through the mind when you reach a certain point of physical exhaustion, and I attempted to remember them to record for my own personal memory.
1.) Countless times I considered seriously stopping by a body of water and attempting to call in a rescue party, this may sound dramatic, but again, the level of physical and mental pain cannot be adequately described.
2.) I thought of many things; women I find beautiful, inspirational phrases, people who have gone through unimaginable hardships and horrors like Everest expeditions without oxygen or survivors of prison camps.
3.) I realized when I stopped I became dizzy and nauseous, so I would not stop walking. Sometimes I would even try to describe the sound of my own footsteps to myself to take my mind off of the pain.
4.) Lastly, and perhaps the hardest thing, was that the beautiful mountains that move the deepest parts of my psyche to bursts of inspiration and movement, became these taunting beasts that towered over me.  Their overwhelming beauty transformed into monsters hiding in the immensity of their own shadow as the sun began to set and further darkened the already ambiguous trails.  I tried to catch this, and remind myself that this was a tainted view. I told myself that the mountains have not changed, only my perspective, and if I keep moving, eventually I would look back on them with romantic awe once again.

There are some things I have come to accept I will never fully comprehend.  The love of the wild to me comes from an innate attraction to the mysterious that seems to have been a side effect of consciousness. But still, something is left that can't be touched. Within the mysterious lies the truth, everything, and the only thing I believe we can do is explore and discover more and more about the world in which we live and in essence, ourselves.

I'm reminded again how lucky I am simply to be alive, to be able to see and appreciate beauty although I may not completely understand it, and how small everyone and everything truly is.

Sitting on top of a mountain I feel an intense sensation of gratitude.  As one writer put it, "all the world's treasures seem like nothing."


“The lover of nature is he whose inward and outward senses are still truly adjusted to each other; who has retained the spirit of infancy even into the era of manhood. His intercourse with heaven and earth, becomes part of his daily food. In the presence of nature, a wild delight runs through the man, in spite of real sorrows”--Ralph Waldo Emerson

View of sky Pond, to the left just barely in the picture stands Sharkstooth Mt.

View of Lake of glass from Sharkstooth Mountain. It's difficult to tell, but I am 1,000 feet above that lake, which is actually quite large.

From a nameless mountain just outside of Boulder, CO.

The city of Boulder from Mount Sanidas

Behind Mount Sanidas

YOUR Limit

"It was a high counsel that I once heard given to a young person, 'Always do what you're afraid to do'"----Ralph Waldo Emerson, "Self Reliance"

"If ever there is tomorrow when we're not together... there is something you must always remember. You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think."--A.A. Milne, "Wynie the Pooh"

        There's a point in any pursuit, be it physical, intellectual or emotional, where you reach your limit.  This is the point at which our perception tells us that we can go no further.  Our insecurities draw a line and tell us that we cannot move past this point

         Over the past couple of weeks I have considered this idea quite extensively, and have become more interested in my own limits.  I arrived at the question, how will I ever know myself completely unless I know what my limits are?  

         Unless I walk the tightrope along the outer edges of my abilities, how will I know what my abilities are?  I will have an idea, I'll know what my ability includes, but not all of it.

        What I've learned so far in this exploration is that the human body is stronger than we give it credit for, and the vast majority of us never even come close to our limits.

       So I implore you, run until you puke and then keep running. Read everything you can, while you can.  And be open emotionally to the infinite possibilities of life.  

        It's a process, and I'm working on it.

Aristotle and a 50k dropout

  Last month, due to multiple injuries that pumped the brakes on my training  (IT Band and hamstring mostly), I made the decision to drop out of the 50k I had planned for May 10th. It wasn't necessarily a difficult decision, because when you can't run more than a mile without intense pain running a 30+ mile race on hilly terrain is simply out of the question.

        I would be lying though if I were to say that I didn't persistently train in a state of denial, and denial being the brother of stubbornness, for me has always been strong.  My first idea, as ludicrous as it sounds, was that I should continue to run through the pain, and perhaps my leg would adapt to the new reality, and heal itself through movement.  I do not recommend this method, though I take pride somewhat in the amount of physical pain I can endure during intense exercise, this was not pain, it was injury and to an extent that I am limited in my ability to describe.

I felt two things in my left leg with every step: 1) As if a hand wrapped around my hamstring and were pulling it away from my leg behind me, and 2) my IT Band (the tendon that runs along the outside of the knee) clicked against my bone like a plucked string in an instrument, sending a vibration of pain down my knee, ankle and foot.

What happened?  Well, I'm sure there are a lot of things that went into it.  Form wasn't much of an issue, since that was something I had been working on for over 2 years at that point (and the only thing left being slouched shoulders when I'm tired).  I assume it was a healthy mixture of too much too soon, neglecting strength training, and biting off a tad more than I could chew.  In regards to the last point, I would much rather do that than timidly approach an easily attainable goal.

So here I was, unable to run for any meaningful amount of time, so what do I do?

I'm convinced that the depression that comes with physical injury is evolutionary as well as metaphysical.  Evolutionary in a sense that for most of our existence a leg injury that kept us from running meant no hunting and no food.  Metaphysical because we do not have a body we are a body, when a limb is injured so is the mind.

Aristotle believed that physical "arete" or excellence was to be approached with a careful balance and was just as important as excellence of the mind.  And for fear of sounding haughty, excellence in this context means the best version of yourself.  Therefore, my individual arete may be miles behind yours, but as long as I'm focused on the betterment of myself, Aristotle would say that I am in accord with "eudaimonia" or ultimate happiness.

        This is something that I had forgotten in my 50k pursuit.  It became less about me developing as an individual to the greatest version of myself, and more about illusory pride and arrogance.

        Exercise quit being a journey and became a struggle.  A struggle to stay motivated, lug the miles, eat the food, repeat.

        So ultimately I am glad for my injury.  Not only because it forced me to rest, but because it reintroduced me to strength training, yoga and plyometrics.  I feel stronger and more able now than when I could run 10+ miles back-to-back.

        The pursuit of arete is exactly that, a pursuit, the following of your inner excellence.  What I am enjoying most right now, is what the constant challenge of the pursuit teaches me about myself.


Notes
Aristotle, "Nicomachean Ethics"

The Meaningless Life

“The meaning of life is just to be alive. It is so plain and so obvious and so simple. And yet, everybody rushes around in a great panic as if it were necessary to achieve something beyond themselves.”
--Alan Watts

For a little over three years now I've done amateur studies in Eastern Philosophy, mostly the works of Alan Watts (trying to read the ancient text, like most ancient manuscripts, felt like swimming through quicksand).  But the interpreters of this philosophy, such as Watts, Nhat-Hanh and others, have helped me to overcome some of the dark places in life that often plague people who "think too much."  And it was the idea of the meaningless life that intrigued me.

For most of us in Western society we've been trained to believe that we must find our purpose, or meaning. That some people are laborers, others are lawyers and doctors, etc.  Somehow, we are all predestined for a singular goal.

Obviously, this is an absurd quest that is doomed to failure and heartache.  I think of Camus' Myth of Sisyphus when he describes the means replacing the end.  When we say we've found our purpose in life, what we mean is that we've found what it is that makes us happy, and calling it our "purpose" alleviates the uncertainty, and convinces us that the time we spend doing it is not in vain.

It is an illusory concept.  Because when we are constantly searching for our "meaning," we're searching for an idea, and as Aeschylus said, we "lose substance while grasping for the shadows."

And I know there are many who say this viewpoint is selfish, and that nothing would be accomplished if everyone believed this way or felt this way.  I would simply ask, what is accomplished by living a life you don't enjoy?  What is so scary about opening yourself to the infinite possibilities and joys of existence, rather than pigeonholing yourself to a fate that is beyond you?

Is my current job something that inspires me?  I would say no.  I enjoy the people I work with immensely and that helps quite a bit, but at this moment it is my reality. Happiness is a choice, as is frustration.  Seeing life as meaningless doesn't change what you do or who you are, it changes how you see what you do, and allows you to be who you are without judgement or pressure.

Why do I write?  Why do I play music?  Why do I take random mountain-climbing trips and read history books that some would consider as punishment?

Because I love those things.

Forget the idea that you need a reason, what you love doesn't have to be labeled with a purpose or meaning or end-goal.  They are you, that's IT.

The quickest way to ruin what makes you happy?  Over-analyze it, judge it, and try to make sense of it.

When we shed the mask and live a life without expectation (from within or without), we begin to live in the moment. Because living a meaningless life doesn't make you stop caring for others or keep you from doing something good or beneficial for others, it shows you that everything is your meaning, your ARE existence:

Do what you love, all of it.

ISC!

Here is the song I submitted for International Songwriters Competition 2014 , "Marianne."
This originally was meant to be a poetic-ballad, no music, but after working on it for awhile I began to hear more and more the musicality of it.
Also, it was encouraged to submit an mp3 of the song as well so the judges can get a better feel of what the melody should be, but the singing/playing ability are not judged. I included the recording at the bottom.
Hope you enjoy!

Marianne

I
It was dark,
the moonlight shining down
like a spotlight on my pain.

She was there,
with purple ribbons in her hair,
she said don't look at me, I won't be real forever.

The candle fades, illuminates
her face, like a painting
that was left undone.

And I tried so hard,
to find her in the dark,
but I never had the hands, Marianne.

Chorus I:
Won't you save me from this fate,
the love I tried to hate,
killed me in the end, Marianne.

One day you'll understand,
I was never good enough,
we never had a chance, Marianne.

II
The ocean sounds, the waves are crashing
down the way they do,
the way they will forever.

Her voice was soft,
I hear her whisper in the dark,
she said don't look at me, I'm trying to hide.

Her silouhette left on the bed,
she tried to hide
but she won't leave my head.

So there I lie,
a broken glass in abandoned house,
waiting to be sand, waiting for a hand, Marianne.

Chorus II:
You try to tear out our page,
you've locked me in this cage
but I'm not looking for the key, Marianne.

Don't run into the dark,
you understood my heart,
that's why you'll always win, Marianne.

III
I close the blinds,
look for the mask that I use
when I'm tired of me.

The wind it beats,
against the hollow window pane,
my heart looking in a mirror.

She walks inside,
head bowed towards the floor,
she said don't look at me, I'm not what you're looking for.

She disappeared,
once again into the night,
she said love is blind that's why it never ends, Marianne.

Chorus I,II

Send Newsletters to your fans from ReverbNation.com

First Post

After struggling with the idea of a "blog" for awhile (reasons ranging from my own insecurities and my apt to laziness), I've decided to make my attempt at this outlet.  I've been writing for a few years, a mixture of poetry, essays and short stories, but they have mostly been left to collect e-dust among the lonely shelves of my computer.

That being said, I don't know how this is going to go, it will probably be a mixture of everything. I cannot promise perfect quality--but I will do my best, I'm just tired of having words circling around my head without putting them forth.

So, the lucky/unlucky reader of this blog will suffer the consequences of my restless imagination, and I will get somewhat of a relief as well as share what artistic expression I have with others (which to me, is one of the key points of art).

I appreciate you taking the time to read this, and will surely let you know through some form of social media when I post again.

Take care!