*"Not the 1st time", Tuolumne 2007
Ears buzz with awareness, perspiration seeps from every pore, hands are moist, needing chalk. I’ve lost consciousness to certain surroundings- (partner, gear, weight) yet gain bursts of energy when I sense birds, wind, and my own breath.
I am focused, attuned to carrying myself from this place to the unexpected next. Feeling pains only flesh deep, I need to be lighter in essence, or else the chafing turns to cuts, cuts to open wounds and so on, so forth.
Strength comes from my core, psoas constricted, assisting abdominal stability, inner thighs gaining recognition from the superior outer region, this center is the powerhouse of cultivating energy. My legs feel at ease in comparison to my fingers, hands, forearms- curled in a constricted motion, aware that each grip is as important as the next. The veins feel shortened and stressed, opening’s no easier than closing and I am lucky to make a fist and jam. Aware that my mind mustn’t get boggled or lose the fuel of breath, that would cause-, well never mind.
My weight is distributed 60-40 hindering the left side of my body. Aware of this chronic distribution I feel for my right foot more, yet try not to overexert due to awareness. It’s easy to trigger points, spasm energy, for no reason, my mind curious about a muscle and if it ‘works’, thus firing off. I use my left foot to jam the crack, sensing stability, my foot bones squeezed, the tissue bruised, and toenails ache. I stand upward with momentum, leaving other points of contact momentarily void, and full of trust, lunge towards that next hold. Vision directs my hand, even though my next reach is out of sight. My belly clenches, it feels loaded of shit that suddenly wants to explode out, and I remember to exhale, freeing the pent up energy to suit my direction. I feel high, elated, and yet unaware of my place en route, besides that which is currently in bodily contact. Deep into the feeling of flow; inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, thinking less and moving; pushing, pulling, rhythmically dancing one limb after another on this rock.

*"My Religion", Yosemite 2006
I wonder sometimes why climbers embrace climbing so ecstatically, with a passion that feels spiritual, even religious. For years, I never questioned this deep love. I simply realized that I had been looking for something for a long time and had somehow found it before I even knew it was missing. Now, when I consider the mainstream Western culture that produced me, I see there is something seriously missing for a lot of people. An altered experience of reality is fundamental to a spiritual worldview. Perhaps that is what climbers’ glimpse- sometimes in the mountains, sometimes when reaching deep within to push past physical limits. Many of us have never felt it before, and we will give anything to get closer to it in the only way we know how.
I often hear people call climbing a selfish, egocentric pursuit. I consider this idea a lot. On the surface, as a sport or activity, this may be true. But for most soul climbers, climbing has never been merely about athletics. Climbing has shown me how to look beyond myself. It has taught me how to be a part of a community, rather than in my own narrow making. I learn how to ask and accept the help from others. I have learned that my powerful emotions can be my greatest strength, as well as my greatest weakness. Physically and intellectually, climbing thrusts me into the larger world, beyond my own culture and comfort zone and teaches me about instinct, self trust and communication. Above all, climbing has shown me the existence of forces beyond the seen world. It has taught me to ponder the meaning of reality. It is an utmost humbling experience.

*"Balance", New Zealand 2004
Climbing is really great, we all love climbing. But what’s interesting to me is what happens in my head or in my life b/c of it. Ultimately, I think climbing is a vehicle for exploration of the self, of the world.
When I first started climbing, all that mattered to me was the passion; everything else seemed superficial or impure, sullied by material concerns. I see now that there are many ways to enter the non material realm. Climbing just happens to be the path I use. I have also learned that spirituality doesn’t simply mean rejecting the physical world. Rather, it demands balance and harmony on the material level. As time goes by, I have learned to embrace the analytical and pragmatic aspects of my personality. I realize that these are strengths, not character flaws. Being anal-retentive is actually a good quality for a climber. Big climbing projects have become an important outlet for my self-expression, demanding equal parts emotion and intellectualism. I love the cycle of hard work and scrupulous planning, capped by all-out passionate effort. The balancing act confuses me though. On a hard climb, if I don’t give everything I have, I can’t succeed. Yet, if I want it too much, I crack under pressure and cant allow myself to surrender to an effortless state.

*"Annoyance", July 2003
My partner leads a climb, falls premature of the run out anchor and wants down. I, sucking from my adrenals, offer to finish. Feeling friction beneath my feet, I float to the point of new territory, until I hear questioning from below and lose focus. I start panting and fall, 20 some feet back into the cliff, snapping my tibia. I get lowered and listen as my two partners contemplate who will now finish the climb (for gear retrieval). I begin to cry and yet hold back. However not being fully committed to embracing any one state of mind is what lead me to this pain, and yet I sit here, only partially recognizing what’s trying to come out. “Strong people don’t quit, I mustn’t let the pain bring me down”. What is down, and why is succumbing to the gravitational pull, something I affiliate with as bad? Some think it’s precarious to harness such intense focus for the pure nature of gravitational play. My body trembles, turning cold and rigid and the two men continue talking. I urge them to finish up, I need to go to the hospital. We’re in Rocklands, South Africa, the nearest hospital is a 5-mile hike out, followed by a days drive; we’ll get there tomorrow.
I fly back to Washington to be with family and despite the doctor’s orders, sit in on Yoga. I am frazzled, like a wire about to catch fire, and without an outlet. I finally cry, pissed off, frustrated sadness. The cast gets replaced a few times from sweaty saturation and my doctor advises me that movement could result in damage. I ask for an air cast, enabling me to float, not even swim, but feel that gravity defying space in water. To no avail, I feel corpsed in this plaster, sitting in Yoga, and feeling my breath because it is the only motion I can pleasurably embrace.