Tag: adventure

Life: Risky Business

Posted in life lessonsTagged , , , 46 Comments

“Pushing through your fear. If there’s something you want, it usually worth the risk. I’ve found that on the side of fear is rebirth.” – Paula Whaley

One of the guides that I climbed mountains with, Phil, taught the skill of weighing objective risks versus subjective risks. Objective risks in the mountains include avalanche danger, weather forecast, rock fall areas, and navigating around crevasses. It is because of objective risk that we’d often leave for the summit in the middle of the night, when things like big blocks of rocks and ice are still frozen to the mountain. That way we reduced the risk of climbing in the heat of midday when the sun warms things up and they pop off to crush you.

As an aside, I found climbing at night to be one of the most beautiful things to do. While it was exceedingly painful to leave a warm sleeping bag, the intimacy of my steps enveloped only in the circle of my headlamp was a way to be both big and small. In a huge arena but only focused on a small area. Groups ahead look like a caravan crossing through the desert because the landscape could be anything. And, crossing things like ladders laid horizontally over crevasses is way more doable when you can’t see the gaping hole below.

A friend ready to cross a crevasse on Mt. Rainier (image mine)

But subjective risk, as I understood it from Phil, is what we internally sense and measure. How do I feel? Does this seem doable today? Subjective risk is more personal, trickier to plan for, and different for everyone.

But this is a post about life, not climbing

I’d argue that in my life now, I have very little objective risk. Perhaps the most hazardous thing I do is forget to wear eye protection when I’m using the weed whacker.

But the subjective risks I’ve found in middle age to be plentiful. Daring to be vulnerable, trying to learn something new, opening to new friendships, asking to be seen, and offering grace instead of judgment – all those things lay bare my heart in a way that can be terrifying and precarious.

I think meditating and writing both are huge subjective risks to my perceived well-being. Hazarding a look inside at the goopy mix of who I am, taking on attempts to change myself, the conditions for my children, and generational patterns of my family. Geez, that’s harder stuff than I ever faced in the mountains.

And yet, I find when I try these things that are subjectively risky, they get me somewhere. Not always, and I haven’t kept track but I think it’s safe to say not usually, where I intend to go but with a receptiveness that moves me forward.

It’s a round-trip sport

As my guide friend, Phil, says, “Climbing is a round-trip sport.” It’s both the up and the down. And the risks are often greater on the down when I’m exhausted from the climb. And now have to cross the crevasse on a ladder in the daylight when I can see the gaping hole beneath me. It’s the same in life for me, taking the risk to extend myself in vulnerability and openness is hardest when I’m tired and depleted but it’s often necessary to lead me home.

I don’t think you have to have climbed to imagine how life can be a slog, both uphill and downhill. But whatever the slope looks like, thinking about it this way has helped me to take the steps to evaluate and take on subjective risks in order to get to my best and highest place.

There is no way to get to the summit, whatever our personal summit may be, without exposing ourselves to risk. But the view from the top and the learning from the trip change us forever.

View from Mt. Adams (image mine)

What do you think about risk? Any tips for how you face risk?

(featured photo is mine from Ixtacchuatl a 17,160ft mountain in Mexico)

Being a Yes-Sayer

Posted in inspirationTagged , , 57 Comments

“Surrender to what is. Say ‘yes’ to life — and see how life suddenly starts working for you rather than against you.” – Eckhard Tolle

[I almost titled this post “Being a Yay-Sayer” as a joke for anyone that has read about the spelling mistake that I made at Everest Base Camp. Featured photo is from there. If you haven’t, here’s the post on HoTM: Yay, Yeah, Whatever.]

One of the most transformative books that I’ve ever read was Year of Yes by Shondra Rhimes. I remember being pregnant with Mr. D and sitting in a Mexican restaurant eating chips and salsa as I read. So I clearly was at least on speaking terms with “yes,” if getting pregnant with my second child by IVF as a single person was any indication.

Shondra Rhimes, the creator of hit shows such as Grey’s Anatomy and Scandal to name just two of her many accomplishments, sets up the book as a response to something one of her sisters says to her. It was something like, “You never say yes to anything.” So she sets out to say “yes” to all of life’s invitations for a year, even things that terrified her. Public speaking – yes. Media appearances – yes.

Here’s how it was transformative for me. My natural response to life is mostly a “yes.” But somewhere down the line I began to think that it was cool and discerning to say, “no.” Like it indicated that I was a busy person in demand and that showed a level of sophistication. It was a subtle thing when I switched from telling people what I couldn’t do instead of what I could do.

[An aside here: I’m not talking about drawing healthy boundaries and maintaining a line of separation between what are my responsibilities to take care of versus someone else’s responsibilities. I’m not advocating contorting myself to make everything fit, I’m focusing on saying yes/no to adventures and opportunities.]

That small change meant that when someone asked if I could meet them for lunch on Wednesday, I’d respond with something like, “No, I can’t. I have back-to-back meetings that day” instead of “I can’t meet Wednesday but I can meet Tuesday or Friday.”

So reading Shonda’s book reminded me that there is an openness when you face life with “yes” in mind. Not only that, it fits better with my natural way of being. It’s an approach that defaults to a response that starts with “here’s what I can do.” It engenders a flexibility to other ideas, opportunities, and adventures that I might not think of myself.

I am sometimes accused of doing too much by the people in my life. But I’m not sure they are accounting for the euphoria and joy that comes with being aligned with that openness that feeds me in so many ways. And when I’m sick, my “yes” pretty quickly turns to “no.” It feels like that is as it should be as well.

This isn’t about giving up discernment as Shondra demonstrates so well in the book when she says “yes” to herself and ends her engagement. She also shows us it takes practice. But in the end, it’s about opening to all the opportunities that come our way with the deep knowing that we can try and see what happens.

Speaking of saying “yes,” Vicki and I were able to get Mark Petruska to come back on the Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast to talk about personal anthems and resiliency. It is a great episode about using songs that energize and motivate us during the tough times in life. You can search for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Amazon Music, Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or Pocketcasts or play it from the web here: Episode 26: Eye of the Tiger with Mark Petruska

(featured photo is mine)

Giving Lift

Posted in inspirationTagged , , , 58 Comments

“If you want to lift yourself up, lift up someone else.” – Booker T. Washington

Yesterday afternoon my kids and I had two hours left of a six hour road trip when we came across a man walking down the interstate with his son, who looked to be about two or three years old. The man was carrying a gas can in one hand and holding his son’s hand in the other.

The mood in my car at the time we happened upon these time was best described as stable. Six hours is a long time for me, not to mention Miss O and Mr D, at almost 8 and 4-years-old respectively. We were tired after a great weekend of playing at the lake cabin of my best friend’s family, a little sad to be on our way home, but also heartened by the fun of being together and with our incredibly fun, generous, and delightful friends.

So I polled my kids as to whether we should stop and help the man and little boy. They asked great questions – were we going to give them a ride? how much longer would it take? – and I told them we’d just take the gas can, fill it up, and return it to them. It would probably add 20 minutes to our trip but save them two or three hours of dangerous walking. The decision was unanimous that we should help them.

By the time we found a gas station, looped back far enough to find their car and then figured out how to turn around to be going in our original direction, it was a good 20 minutes. In that time, the mood in my car had lifted exponentially. Mr. D had grand plans that he was going to hop out and deliver the gasoline himself, and Miss O was mapping out her strategy to find out all that she could about them. When I delivered the news that there was no way I was letting them out of the car on the highway, they were disappointed, but so buoyant by the fun helping adventure that even a little disappointment couldn’t dent the mood.

And why did I do it? It was clear how I could help and seemed low risk. And I had benefitted greatly from the weekend with the fun and relaxing time with our amazing and thoughtful friends. But probably mostly, because the weekend away had given me a glimpse of the long view of life. (For more on that final point, The Long View is my post on the Heart of the Matter blog today).

I only exchanged about a dozen words with the man and his boy during our quest for more gasoline, but the whole thing carried us safely and happily home for the remaining two hours. It reminded me of the quote from Booker T. Washington at the top of this post – there truly is great lift that comes from helping others.

(featured photo from Pexels)

Scaling the Walls of Our Dreams

Posted in inspirationTagged , , , , 46 Comments

“The purpose of life is to discover your gift. The meaning of life is to give your gift away.” – David Viscott

This is a repost of something I published on 5/11/2022. Heads up – you may have already read this.

I was talking with some friends the other day about the movie Free Solo. One of my friends breezily remarked that Alex Honnold was crazy for climbing El Capitan in Yosemite National Park, a nearly 3,000 foot ascent without ropes, anchors or any other protective gear. Before I watched the movie, I would have agreed. After all, the first time I climbed a rock face, I was only three feet off the ground when my leg start shaking, a condition so common it has a name – sewing machine leg.

But when you watch the movie, you see how impeccably he prepared for the challenge. Alex climbed each section over and over again with protective gear, until every move was automatic and if not easy, than at least anticipated.

For me the crux moment is when the film crew assembles to film his free solo attempt and he starts but then calls it off because he knows it’s not the right day. In that willingness under the pressure of expectation and respect for everyone else’s time and with the knowledge that they won’t be able to try again until the next year, he shows how incredibly brave he is.

For me this isn’t a movie about a climber ascending a famous wall at Yosemite. It’s an allegory for all of us about the call to recognize and commit to our gifts. It is about accepting our paths, the unique reason we are all on the planet, and then walking that path.

It contains both the vision piece – and execution piece, the incredibly hard work that we have to do to hone our gift once we accept it. It shows that purpose and practice go hand in hand.

And it speaks to how vital it is to listen to the quiet Divine voice within us. So that if the day, the conditions or the circumstances aren’t right, we are willing to honor the voice within that says “Don’t do it” no matter how silly it could make us look. We can listen, withdraw and wait for the right day.

When my daughter was 2-years-old and we were watching The Sound of Music, she asked why the characters at the convent were wearing habits and wimples. When I told her they were nuns, she repeated back to me, “They are nuts?”

Yes, sometimes when we follow our calling, we might seem like we are nuts. It is hard to get quiet enough to listen to the small voice within. Even harder to put our gifts on display for the world to see and put in enough practice to bring them to bear in an audacious way.

But when we do scale that wall of gifts and dreams, when we stand on top and celebrate that unity of purpose, preparation and performance, we set the world on fire. As Howard Thurman said so well, “Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people that come alive.”

I’ve posted a related piece The Archetypes of Story on the Wise & Shine blog. If you have time, hop over there to check it out.

(featured photo from Pexels)

Party With Altitude

Posted in life lessonsTagged , , 39 Comments

“Passion is what makes life interesting, what ignites our soul, drives our curiosity, fuels our love and carries our friendship, stimulates our intellect, and pushes our limit…A passion for life is contagious and uplifting. Passion cuts both ways… Those that make you feel on top of the world are equally able to turn it upside down.” – Jon Krakauer

The most surreal party I ever went to: Drank too much, spent all my money, and then ended up sleeping in a field. No, this isn’t some weird WordPress prompt – just a memory that popped up from telling climbing stories.

After we left my friends, Phil and Sue, and the other climbers in their group, at Everest Base Camp in March 2001, those of us who had trekked in with them headed back down the 30 mile route to hike out. I believe what took us 12 days to ascend while taking the time to acclimatize to the altitude, took us only 4 days to walk back.

Of course, we felt better and better as we descended. At our highest point, climbing a mountain called Kala Patar along the way with an altitude of 18,200 feet, the air contains about 45% of the oxygen that you would find at sea level but as we descended it increased by about 3% for every 1,000 feet of elevation. Our bodies had responded to the thin air by producing more red blood cells, and though they go back to normal after about a week at home, in the meantime, they combined with the denser air to make us feel GREAT.

On the way back down, we spent one night at a tea house at about 15,000 feet. After setting up our tents in the field, my fellow trekkers and I went into the main room for dinner and discovered that if you knocked on the shuttered door to the kitchen, you could order beer.

This was not the first time that the Sherpa at the hut had seen trekkers euphoric with a little more oxygen so they broke out the boom box with the Phil Collins tape. As we danced to Sussudio, practiced the white man’s overbite (imagine tall men jutting their jaws out to be funky), and generally cut loose, we kept on knocking on the shuttered door to order more beer.

Of course beer was relatively expensive. Everything had to be carried in on the backs of men or beasts so the higher up the hut, the more costly items were. I remember exhausting my cash on hand with the first round but fortunately my trekking friends, Dave and John, funded the next couple.

I’m not sure of the physiology of the next part, but alcohol packs a wallop at altitude, at least for me. I think it only took two or three cans of beers and a few flips of the Phil Collins tape and I was dancing on thin air. Shortly thereafter, I crawled into my tent and slept in a field. And the next morning woke up with a mountain of a headache.

Drank too much, spent all my money, and slept in a field. A party with altitude.

For another story about recovering from something else silly I did at high-altitude, please check out my Heart of the Matter Post: Yay, Yeah, Whatever.

Changing Someone’s Ride – Small Acts of Kindness

Posted in podcastTagged , , , 47 Comments

“Some stranger somewhere, still remembers you because you were kind to them when no one else was.” – unknown

Miss O was 3-years-old when I got a bike seat for the back of my bike and took her for our first ride around the neighborhood. She loved being in that seat, even though she could primarily only see my back. As we rode around in the September sunshine, she would exclaim. “This is fantastic!” and also yell “hi” to everyone.

Her delight and enthusiasm were so infectious. It reminded me of my favorite lines from Salman Rushdie’s Midnight Children,

“It seems that in the late summer of that year my grandfather, Doctor Aadam Aziz, contracted a highly dangerous form of optimism. Bicycling around Agra, he whistled piercingly, badly, but very happily. He was by no means alone, because, despite strenuous efforts by the authorities to stamp it out, this virulent disease had been breaking out all over India that year, and drastic steps were to be taken before it was brought under control.”

Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie

It also reminded me of the summer I did a lot of tandem bike riding with my friend, Eric. I was in the back seat so I had no responsibility for steering and braking. All I had to do was stay on the bike and pedal. That left a lot of time for looking around and waving to people as we passed them.

I must have been going about this quietly because Eric didn’t have any idea I was waving madly from the back of the bike. Until one day when we passed a group of tough looking teenage boys and he was surprised that they smiled and did kinda of a cool, low-down wave at him. The next time we passed someone, Eric watched the shadow of the bike and saw me waving. He stopped, laughed, and then asked, “Have you been doing that all summer?”

Well, sure I had. And listen, I came by it honestly because my dad when we’d go hiking would greet every group we passed. “How much farther to the Starbucks?” or “You’re doing great. Almost there!”

What did I learn from riding with Miss O, my dad, and tandem biking? It doesn’t take much to change the experience of those around us.

This is also the topic of the HoTM podcast today, Episode 16: Nuggets of Kindness with Stuart Perkins Vicki and I talk with Stuart about one of my favorite posts of his — and how his powerful writing touches on parenting, kindness, inspiration, people paying attention to how they can help others.

It’s such a fun podcast – you may even find yourself shouting, like Miss O, “This is fantastic!” 🙂 I hope you enjoy listening!

Links for Episode 16:

Listen on Anchor: Episode 16: Nuggets of Kindness with Stuart Perkins or search for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Apple, Amazon Music, Spotify and Pocket Casts

Stuart’s blog: https://storyshucker.wordpress.com

Stuart’s post: A Nugget of Kindness

(featured photo from Pexels)

Old Routine, New Fit

Posted in life lessonsTagged , , 62 Comments

“I am still in the process of growing up, but I will make no progress if I lose any of myself along the way.” – Madeleine L’Engle

I’m sore. Do you ever do the thing where you go back to doing something you used to do all the time only to find out it feels totally different?

On Saturday morning, I was gifted a few free hours because my kids wanted to have a babysitter. Before I had kids, I used to spend almost every Saturday morning either hiking or doing my favorite sets of stairs, the Capital Hill stairs – 13 flights for a total of 290 stairs for each ascent. And descent, of course that is obvious, but as a math person, I couldn’t just let it go. Anyway – with free hours on a Saturday morning, the Capital Hill stairs seemed like an obvious thing to do.

As I was doing them, I felt how long it’s been. I’ve changed and grown (rounder, mostly) and finding my rhythm was hard and uncomfortable. My legs felt leaden, my knees stiff. There is a beautiful garden next to the top third of the stairs created by Ann and Dan, a couple that bought two properties there in the 1960’s, one for their house and one for the garden. Then they gifted the land with the garden to the City in the late 1990’s. Next to the garden was a plaque that commemorated that history and noted Dan’s passing at age 96 in 2020.

As I noticed all these differences, including the fact that I’ve lost my ability to sip from my water bottle while on the go without spilling all over myself, I started to feel all the versions of myself that have done the stairs. The 20-something woman who was building confidence for climbing mountains, the 30-something woman who was trying to keep in touch with that adventurous part of herself that her husband had little interest in, the 40-something woman working out her comfort with discomfort after divorce. All the way to now, the 50-something woman using a set of stairs to remember where she’s been.

Soon enough all the lessons I’ve learned about doing stairs came back to me. Take one step at a time, go slowly using a barely perceptible rest step when it gets hard, and pause for a deep breath before the last 90 stairs.

Yes, I’m sore today. But it seemed like a worthwhile exercise to find out that as I change and grow, my hard won lessons go with me.

Speaking of growth and change, I have a companion piece posted on The Heart of the Matter this morning, Growing Like a Weed.

Certitude

Posted in meditationTagged , , , , , 29 Comments

“You can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something – your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.” – Steve Jobs

You know that feeling when you start to wobble? It could be riding a bike or stand up paddleboarding or going down the stairs too fast with your hands full but there’s a moment when it all starts vibrating and you think, “Oh no, I’m going to fall!” but you haven’t fallen yet. That’s how my family feels right now.

It started with my two-year-old’s root canal – his fever spiked, the dentist worked on the tooth and then put him on antibiotics. Just as that pain was starting to heal, my 6-year-old daughter came down with a head cold. Right as she started to kick that, my son’s fever spiked again so it was back to the dentist who finished working on the tooth and continued the antibiotics. Then his body signaled it was done with antibiotics by breaking out in a rash all over his body. Right as that began to clear, I caught my daughter’s head cold.

It was hard to put my finger on why all this feels difficult. It’s more than the aches and pains, although they aren’t very fun and different than the fear that I won’t be able to get my work done.

But I put a name to what I was grappling with when I listened again to an Unlocking Us podcast where Brené Brown talked with Father Richard Rohr, a Franciscan priest and prolific author. CERTITUDE

“People who’ve had any genuine spiritual experience, always know that they don’t know. They are utterly humbled before mystery, they are in awe before the abyss of it all, in wonder at eternity and depth, and a love which is incomprehensible to the mind.”

Our ancestors were more easily able to hold on to mystery in general and God in particular. Whereas we worship workability, predictability and answers. We like answers! It’s not good to think that way. It takes away a natural humility.

We created an artificial world in which we create circumstances in which WE KNOW.

You have to get away from Western over-developed countries to meet a different kind of human being who isn’t that way. Who don’t think they have a right to certitude.

Father Richard Rohr

Uncertainty is a great word to describe what I’ve been feeling as my family wobbles. I lose my ability to predict what the next day is going to look like, more or less, and I feel a little bereft without that. I start casting about trying to think of when this is end so I can get back to knowing.

And then I think of one of my favorite quotes from Mark Nepo, “When we stop struggling we float.”  I imagine just leaning back into this time of uncertainty, having faith that a dots will connect as Steve Jobs says in the quote for this post.

When life roughs me up I often find that it gives me a little bit of texture to hang out to. Almost as if when things are going too smoothly, time glides too easily through my fingers and I “routine” my life away. Difficulty keeps us close for a moment and life becomes more of an adventure.

There was a COVID case in my son’s classroom last week. Will his COVID test come back negative this morning so that he can go to school and I can go to my 11:30 meeting? It’s a mystery – and I’m so grateful I woke up this morning so that I will be able to solve it and go on to the next.

(featured photo from Pexels)

Just Say Yes

Posted in meditationTagged , , , , , 35 Comments

“Respond to every call that excites your spirit.” – Rumi

A couple of months ago when my high school friend generously offered me and my family a free place to stay in Vail, Colorado for 4 nights, I didn’t think about it much and just said “yes.” Now my little family and my friend Eric have made our way here. It took us 10 hours of car, bus, airplane, bus, and car transport to get here but we made it.

Then we walked in to a place so fancy I have trouble believing it’s a vacation place. If all the coffee mugs match and the appliances are not cast offs from some other home, it somehow doesn’t match with my image of vacation accommodations. But I have proof that we are on vacation, because I’m saying “yes” to most everything.

“Mom, can we stay up late?” – YES

“Can we make s’mores out by the fire pit tonight?” – YES

“Will you go swimming with us in an outdoor (heated) swimming pool when it’s 50 degrees out?” – YES

“Can I put this dirty brown snow in my mouth?” – NO

Okay, so I’m not saying yes to everything. But I’m finding that this adventure is all about living life without the rules and schedules that mark life at home.

And the effect has been to shake off the sliver of patina that grows between our hearts and living on a regular basis. Getting everything done in a day means keeping a bit of wildness in check and not listening to where our adventurous souls want to go.

Now we have a couple more days of leaving behind the rules and finding our natural rhythm close to nature and close to each other. As long as it doesn’t break any matching coffee mugs, I’m up for saying “yes” for just about anything today.

What are you saying “yes” to today?

Photos of the Week: March 19

Posted in Photo of the weekTagged , , 25 Comments

Inspired by her amazing 1st grade teacher, Miss O was doing art at 7am to put the finishing touches on her leprechaun trap. Green paint, green slime and a lot of signs that lured the leprechauns right to the trap door made for a lot of St. Patrick’s Day fun.

Watching my kids, I understand so much better every time I’ve heard a guy say, “I grew up with older sisters.”

And pictures from our adventure last weekend to ride light rail, get off wherever we wanted, eat donuts at a coffee shop and happen upon a nice policeman that let Miss O get on his motorcycle!