I was invited to a dinner party at 7:30 on Tuesday night, by an old acquaintance, at the house of a very generous and welcoming couple, Tony and Olivia. She baked a delicious leek tart with Wasabi mashed potatoes, green salad and there were some great beverages as well. Another couple, Dan and Ally arrived. It was Ally’s birthday and some other people came to join in the celebration. At some point after dinner someone started talking about Jambalaya and my ears perked up. How could it be that out here in the high desert of California someone could know about Jambalaya? I was interested so I listened on. The words boiled Crawfish fell out of Dan’s mouth floated across the room and hit my eardrums! In my most flattering, southern, ghetto-esque accent I blurt out, ” I’m from Louisiana, what y’all know ’bout eatin’ crawfish?” The room exploded with laughter. Dan went on to tell a story about being in Alabama with his dad and their waitress explained to them that the proper way to eat crawfish is to suck the heads. I energetically replied, “Hell yeah, that’s the shit!” More laughter proceeded and that inspired me to go into great detail about sucking heads and how good it is. I further went on to explain that the real dirty south way is to stick your pinky in there, pull out the good stuff and eat it. The room was in shock and there was Dan, on the couch looking at me with eyes wide. In between bouts of laughter he managed to allude to the fact that he was a little enamored with me and now I had just floored him. He lay there almost quivering as his wife laughed hysterically. And I sat there almost naïve to what I had just done. From the corner of the room someone said, “Wow, I had no idea.” And I then realized what had just gone down. I blushed and made my way to the kitchen for a drink of water.

It’s not that this is my first time here but this time is different. Perhaps it’s from all the events that have happened in 2009 that have me reborn in 2010 and in my 30th year. I’ve been here for seven days and so much has happened in such little time that I feel like an entire books-worth of stories is transpiring.

The weather was perfect for a few days and then a storm rolled in from the pacific and has slammed the Sierra. Bishop is positioned just so that a great vantage point is given to the surrounding mountains and to the wintry blusters that inhabit them. It’s been rainy and snowy here for a few days now and rest days are being forced upon one.  And so when not climbing what is it that one does to occupy the time?

It was Monday, MLK Day, and the morning was spent in the Looney Bean fumbling with the internet and getting over caffeinated on Lattes. Looking around the room my gaze was met with families passing through on their way back home from a weekend of skiing, a few locals enjoying their day off and a handful of fellow homeless climbers, all wondering what to do. I had a moment of bewilderment as I realized we were all in the same boat, it didn’t matter how famous or well-known any of us were; the fact of the matter was we were all biding time before our next climb and our options for doing so were limited. It was a flash of insight into the life of a climber and how hard it really is at times.

Finally I was fed up with the spotty internet and my friend James and I headed for the pet store. What better way to spend a rest day than to love on some puppies! More hours were spent wondering the streets of town and finding the best parking spot conducive to napping.

Tuesday morning I opted for the Black Sheep for my latte fix. Word was that their internet connection was better than the Looney Bean and they offer an array of fresh roasted organic beans for your brew of choice. The clouds loomed on the horizon, blocking the view of the mountains and the winds swirled through town ripping my top vent on my van clear off and into the void. Rain fell relentlessly on my bed and a quick fix was in order. A jerry-rigged job of gorilla tape and plastic solved the problem for the time being until I could head over to the RV store and get a replacement.Once at the store the friendly Dale showed me what I needed and relief came over me as I understood that the leaky roof would soon be fixed allowing for maximum comfort once again as I spent many more days lounging in the van, sheltered from the winter outside. Upon checking out the lovely woman behind the counter asked me “Where’d ya get the shiner?” I laughed and told her that I was accidentally kicked in the face by a friend while bouldering due to a hold breaking and being on a slope. It almost knocked me out and I was left with this beautifully colored purple and blue eye. I asked her is she would have felt bad if I had told her my boyfriend beat me up and she responded by saying, “You don’t seem to the type to let that happen!” It was quite funny and it left me wondering just how it is people perceive me.

So, after a quick RV repair I headed for the Happy’s in hopes of getting in a bit of bouldering and much to my delight that’s exactly what went down. The weather grew colder and colder and the wind grew stronger and stronger and soon I was witness to everyone fleeing the boulders and heading back to town. I was left there to myself and the rocks and felt so inspired to be there alone with the hawks and ravens and any boulder problem I so desired. Eventually I tired myself out and I too fled for town. Evening hours were spent in and out of dream-time until 7:30 arrived and I was invited to some folks for a dinner party.

It is here that the story gets funnier….stay tuned for more to come!

Came bouldering today at Cathedral Boulders. It’s freezing cold and small hail has been falling off an on all morning. I’m out here alone but the forest feels so comfortable, so much so, that I don’t feel alone at all. A loud, thunderous, crashing sound is echoing through the trees – ice falls somewhere above. And as I turn around, scanning the skyline my eyes are met with a peak at Higher and Lower Cathedral Spires. It is a beautiful day here in the boulders with a thermos of hot tea. I would be happier in no other place than here today.

Warm bowl

of  rice, eggs, onions and spinach.

Green and yellow and brown.

A bowl consisting of plants and embryos –

cells that are more beautiful

than words can recall.

This bowl of warmth

so good on this

winter morning.

What is it that rides on the late fall wind,

that brings feelings of fireworks

subdued by the mist of the early morning air?

It is something that stirs the soul deep within

covering the back,

embracing the shoulders like a blanket warmed from fire.

It is something that at once seems electrifying and serene,

vibrant and dull.

Is it the coming of winter

with it’s quiet slumber under a chill filled sky?

No, no it is much more than that

which rides on the back of the November wind.

It is the magic of life

that sparks with the stars

and ripples down the river;

it is the crest of a wave

and the crash on the shore

beating patterns in the sand.

Again and again.

This wind carries with it

the pulse of existence

that circles the earth

and twirls through the universe

and resides here

in our hearts.

It’s 6am and I’m sitting by the fire as the earth turns toward the sun. The glow from the wood stove is warming me up just right taking the early morning chill off. Outside a pale blue light is appearing as the fog tucks the trees and the canyon in for the next few hours until the sun, with all its glory, melts the fall mist away. A new day is on the horizon welcomed by the flames that keep life warm.

I received this in an email the other day and it’s had me thinking. I feel it is so symbolic of our American society. We have all of this stuff, so much stuff, yet it leaves us hungry and always wanting more. And in the end the stuff takes over and we’re left empty. What a tragic comedy we have playing itself out. Thankfully someone let the air out of this ball so that the fish could go on living, maybe something will let the air out for us people. It’s so curious as to what the next chapters will bring.

Letting go can be such a hard thing to do sometimes. But, it seems that when the notion to leave or let go comes to you then perhaps that’s exactly what’s to be done.  For some time now I’ve been struggling with feelings and wants about one particular relationship. It isn’t how I would want it ideally and I seem to want more than is being offered. And I feel bad through it all and even feel myself becoming all the ugly things. It’s all there however; the friendship, the care, the love, the companionship but there is one thing missing – the commitment to the boyfriend/girlfriend relationship.

At the same time I’ve been trying this climb. I enjoy it thoroughly; it’s aesthetic, good rock, good movement, technical, hard and it has my interest. I’ve got the first part completely dialed, so much so that it hardly takes effort to reach the first anchors. That in itself feels really good. Then comes the middle section, it starts off of and then come a few moves of incredibly hard bear hugging to a smearing, heel hooking, dead point to a dime edge. This move eludes me. I’ve stuck it once, once out of countless tries. I can see it sometimes and others I feel at a loss for what to do. The rest of the route follows in similar style to the first part, with not too much issue. So, all in all I;ve done the entire route except for ONE move.

Yesterday I went there optimistic, hopeful, wanting. I got to the middle section and I couldn’t get it. It felt impossible, unlikely, not for me. My leg slipped and I slammed my knee into the arete. I cried, I yelled, I screamed. I felt lost, hopeless and after several attempts of getting now where I lowered to the ground. Feeling defeated as I took of my shoes and wondered.

Perhaps I will never get that move.  Perhaps it’s not meant for me. I decided to let it go. I realized that the harder I hold on to the idea of doing it the harder I will make it for myself. I will continue to go to the climb but I will use it as a trainer physically and mentally. It’s not about doing it anymore, it’s about enjoying it for what it does give me.

In this understanding I see the relationship, too. It is the same. It’s all there except one part and I can no longer try and force that part. I can only let it go and take it for what it is. I’m letting go.

There is no distinct trail to follow out to Wiz Dome, more it’s a path that meanders through the trees and boulders, riddled with tiny frogs of gold and green and marked with the impressions of bear, coyote and deer. Over the summer I took that path to Wiz Dome about a half dozen times. At first uncertain of my steps but eventually learning the way and getting acquainted with the natural landmarks and the old trees who wear their bark of ages, showing their wisdom of the world. My trips out there were to climb this incredibly beautiful line so aptly named,”Sacred Fire.” Over the time period of some weeks there I was familiarizing myself with route, learning the moves, unlocking sequences and finding my rhythm.

The day I redpointed we went out in the morning. The air was still crisp and the moon still out. The coyotes were yipping in the distance creating a wild feeling that circulated through the air and gave the perspective that everything was alive. The place vibrated with the energy of life that morning and I was excited to be part of the landscape, to be one with the movement of the rock.

I started up the climb, clipping as I went, breathing heavy and hard and feeling uneasy about what to expect and how it would feel. I was getting ahead of myself, my mind racing towards the future while my body struggled in the moment. I became pumped and I fell, a nice big clean fall. Coming to rest, feeling a bit of surprise but feeling great relief I realized that I had been racing too fast ahead in my thoughts and that I wasn’t fully engaging myself with each move and step, I was caught up in expectation and fear and because of that I lost my power and strength and focus. I lowered down, rested and centered my thoughts on what I had just done, where I had gotten, and what I needed to do to finish the route. I saw myself at the anchor clipping in and then I concentrated on my breathing. I lay at the base of the climb letting my breath relax and connect me with the place, with the coyotes in the distance, the frogs along the trail and the sweet smell of the pines and cedars. I was ready to try again, this time feeling completely free of any fear and expectation. I started up the route, very sure of my movements and completely present in each moment. Feeling incredibly relaxed I advanced up the rock to the anchors. I had learned how to harmonize myself with the route, following it’s lead. It had shown me where to go and what I would find as I got there. Clipping into the anchors and preparing to lower I realized that “Sacred Fire” has shown me my innate and intimate connection to the living world.

The granite rocks where we sat together

on the twinkling, sunlit, river stream.

A gentle breeze blowing the tall grass

and I can see you there with me.

Your body is gone but your spirit lives on

and I can feel the love that you gave me.

I shed tears of happiness for the life we had together

and I know that our souls are intertwined forever.