The quietude of this list, this week, mirrors my own conciousness. There is a
heavyness in the air around me, and even bunny seems not to want to come out of
her house. I coaxed her this morning with a bit of fresh maple recently fallen
of the tree, but she looks frumpy, as I feel. And I know that she is changing
to her winter fur. Nevertheless. The times are in evidence that personality
is indeed situational. Perhaps we have reached a leverage point in
cultural-historical space and time for shaping our karma.
I flew to seattle last wednesday, boarding three separate aircraft to get
there. The accumulated stress of doing so left me exhausted by the time I
reached my destination. It did not help that, while conversing about the plane
that went down in pennsylvania, the ex-marine seated next to me gave
instruction on how to snap a person's neck. But my repugnance turned to a cold
realization. Death is what the terrorist came to achieve. Stopping him from
taking others to that end might well mean bringing him to his own. If faced
with that situation, would I attempt it? In my imagination I can put myself
there, but my own actions remain a mystery.
The plan shaped quite some time ago was to climb to camp Muir on Rainier, and
spend the night in my bivy bag, then descend the next day, return to seattle,
and teach for the weekend. I drove to the mountain and spent the night camping
at its base. The next morning I ascended the Muir snowfield and shortly after
noon reached the camp. A party of climbers were entering it, having descended
from the summit, and another group was setting up to climb there. The effort
of ascending, putting one foot in front of the other, in an atmosphere that
this flatlander finds rarified, had brought me a deep sense of peace. The
bright, bright sun and deeply solid blue sky formed an astonishing contrast to
the rough volcanic rocks and the snow and ice made dirty by a season of
melting. I watched the climbers for a while, absorbing their preparations,
and noting their strategies and techniques to inform my own. One came over and
it was clear on his expression that he felt the same as I. I think everyone
there did. We talked of our children experiencing these kinds of moments and
wondered how long we ourselves would be able to.
I sat there for perhaps another hour. My original plan of spending the night
above 10,000 feet did not seem important anymore. I could decide what to do.
No matter how past conditions and actions led up to the moment, at that moment,
it was still my choice. The feeling was of empowerment, following a span when
I had felt none. I chose to descend, and taking my crampons off, I made it
quick, yet taking care around the crevasses that had opened up on the
snowfield.
This morning the act of putting one foot in front of the other is that of
writing. But cyberspace has neither a blue sky that wraps down to your waist,
nor does it take your breath away.
I have not reached the camp yet. And today I don't think I will.
__________________________________________________
Do You Yahoo!?
Listen to your Yahoo! Mail messages from any phone.
http://phone.yahoo.com
This archive was generated by hypermail 2b29 : Wed Oct 10 2001 - 15:49:21 PDT