Sweet peas.

Yes, the first thing that I could possibly decide to say in the first post in 2 months is sweet peas.

Sweet peas rock.

They’re sweet…and healthy…and crunchy…and cold…

So why sweet peas? Because it’s what I’m chewing on right now (but for all you mere mortals reading this after 12:58am on August 24, 2010 it’s what I was chewing on). I’m lying in my bed at my grandma’s house in Eagle Grove, Iowa.

“Wait” says you.

“I know” says I “You’re wondering why the bloody I’m in Iowa.”

You says “yeah, you’re spot on”

And I says “well I’ll tell ya”

I’m working for my grandma doing small jobs that have been piling up the last few years. I’ve been here since the 3^rd of this month, and I’m here until the 27^th. It’s been good overall. It’s also been hard, boring, very fun, exciting, and damn painful sometimes.

Mostly I’ve been painting, but I’m also doing about 60 feet of sidewalk replacement. I LOVE concrete work. Seriously. It’s hard, physical, attention demanding, perfectionistic, and it lasts for 30 years. Talk about a legacy. Painting is ok…I like the transformation of a room, but for the most part people pick boring schemes. Not at all like the cool painting commercials on TV………………ba**rds.

I’m staying at my grandma’s place, but I’m working at my uncle and aunts house. They are renting my gma’s old house. It’s a gorgeous, old fashioned, HUGE house. My aunt and uncle are awesome, and their three kids are the bomb.

So that’s life. Not exciting I know. If you’re still reading at this point you’re either a stalker or Mrs. Slusher. In the rare event that you aren’t either of a stalker or Mrs. Slusher then you must be bored…………..

…………which means I can write about just about anything and you’ll probably still read it J muwahahahahahahahahaha.

Before I pick a random topic to monologue about in my pathetic attempt to end this post with some sense of purpose, I shall inform you about my last month in Kansas.

KANSAS SUCKS.

Okay, now for the monologue.

Just kidding. You don’t get away that easily. If I had to suffer in that God forsaken, plague ridden, heat blasted, dreary, humid, hell-hole some people are crazy enough to call home, then you have to at least read about it. It’s my form of revenge.  ha.

I worked for Dessert Paint Company painting houses. It was actually a really good job. I learned a lot, and my co-workers were really great guys. My boss was easy going, and easy to work for. I worked 40 hours a week for him, and filled in about another 15 to 20 on the side.

I lived in the basement of my parent’s home. It’s the first time I’ve stayed for more than 2 weeks in 2 years…it felt weird…

I know most people just laugh and roll their eyes at me when I say that I hate Kansas. But I’m serious. That place is a dump. I detest it. The more I go back the less I ever want to go back. For every tolerable memory there is 5 bad ones, and for the few good memories there are probably 100 awful ones.

People ask me where I’m from. Well it sure as hell isn’t Kansas. But I say Kansas anyways. Why? I don’t know…people want an easy answer and if I say anything else I have to explain. So I’m lazy…sue me. The fact is, Kansas isn’t home. Two summers ago, I shook the dust of that state off my tires and blasted my way into the vagabondish life style that I currently have.

“Vagabondish?” you think. You think I’m being over dramatic. Really? I’m in IOWA. IOWA. Yeah, the flattest state in the world. It has one (1) city with over a million inhabitants. Why would I come here? Two reasons. One, I wanted to spend time with my grandma and uncle’s family. Two, because I wanted to leave Kansas.

Not enough proof? Okay, chew on this. I never unpacked after last semester. So when I got back from Cleveland (I’ll get to that), I just packed up my car and decided not to come back before I left for school. I didn’t even stay for 24 hours after landing. I was on the road in sub 20. Boo yaa.

Still doubting? Ok, here’s the kill shot. I’m not returning to my parents’ until Christmas. And that’s only for a few days before I leave for my 4^th straight New Years in COLORADO. I FREAKING LOVE THAT STATE!

Then hopefully, off to England for the spring term. Then, I’ll intern in a big city, back to college, then graduate, travel Europe for a while, then travel the world, maybe find a job and home, and see where life goes from there.

People ALWAYS ask me two things. 1) How did I end up in PA 2) What am I going to do after I graduate. They are two stupid questions. The answers 1) I drove 2) don’t know. I don’t. I’m just not thinking that far out. It will figure itself out when it gets there.

Maybe I’ve just developed a hard case of college laziness, or I’ve become apathetic to life in general. Regardless, that’s my life philosophy. I’m not a very good climber, but I love the culture and attitude that so many climbers have. It’s a chill, take life as it comes at you kind of philosophy. I love that.

I’m stubborn. Big news to the world. Spend 5 minutes in a room with me and you’ll probably figure that out for yourself. I resent people who think that they know what’s better for me then me. I don’t have a bloody clue where life will take me. Instead of planning for something and trying to control it, I’m going to approach life like the Bible says so…one day at a time. Yeah, I’ll still have a savings account, I’ll still eat healthy so I don’t die from a heart attack, I’m not talking about living the life of the party, and booze it up now. No, I’m talking about letting the world flow around me, taking me, shaping me through the experiences I have. Life is experience. Faith cannot be idealist, but experiential. I want a living life, and a living faith. I want a life that when I’m old and dying I can say nothing went like I was expecting it.

But I’m getting carried away, let’s bring this back down.

I’m floating. I feel like I have no control in my life. It used to freak me out, now I’m getting used to it…I’m evening learning to like this. I’m trying to cope with a life that keeps freaking me out. My plans grow up like trees in a forest, and then burn in a thousand wildfires. My dreams fall to ash on the burnt ground that once used to be my future. In the midst of the charred ruin that has me depressed, a small charm appears. A flower in the ash, a bird on the wind. Something…something that makes me look up from the ruin, and see the distance. I realize that I’m not standing on my ruined future, but instead on a painting. I see in the distance rising mountains, green fields, rolling forests, rivers, lakes, clouds, rain, lighting, thunder…I see everything only clearly enough to identify it. I can’t see every detail because I’m not there. Instead of trying to figure out what the future will be, I enjoy the view, and start walking. I have this feeling, that when (if ever) I arrive at this future place, I’ll look back and see all the things I once saw in the future but in the past.

So there. That’s my monologue. I bet you thought that you would get lucky and that I would forget. HA! Nope. I remembered. I’m currently flirting with a 1,500 word post so I’m going to wrap this up.

Things I want you to take away from this:

1)      I’m bored with summer and I can’t wait for school to start

2)      I’m head over heels in love with Ali

3)      I love mountains

4)      I love climbing mountains

5)      I’m listening to the album Sigh No More by Mumford and Sons. Check them out. Epic writing music.

6)      I love sweet peas

I just passed 1500 words with “peas” above so, congratulations; you’ve managed to pay attention to a bored college student for a few minutes. That’s an impressive feat if you think about it. You probably would have zoned out if I was telling you this in person. However, it’s on a sweet blog, so now it’s cool, sophisticated, and intelligent.

Bullshit.

There. I just dealt with two of the three preconceptions of this blog (sophisticated and intelligent) in one word. That’s cool.

1,584

So I guess after 60 days I should be able to write a hell of a good blog post. And I can. Believe it or not, I may have actually had an exciting 2 months…and in the SUMMER no less. Damn…who would have thought an exciting summer would ever decide to show up for me…

So life update time.

I’m currently in Kansas, staying with my parents and working for a painting company. I work 5 days a week with no overtime so I actually have a life outside of work. Granted that life outside of work is kinda lame but it’s an improvement on last year. So, life outside of work…

Well, I’m running a lot and not climbing at all. I’m running a 50k trail run this weekend, so that’s exciting. I registered late, so I may not get a t-shirt. I really want a t-shirt. It’s why i’m running. for a t-shirt. haha yeah right. I have no idea why i’m running it except that it seems fun and i want a challenge.

Besides the running, I’m occasionally lifting, and working some odd jobs. I hang out with friends regularly, but we lack an imagination. That, and a place that will let us do something besides eat and watch movies.

So that’s current life. How about previous life?

The last 2 weeks of school were amazing. Like, UNBELIEVABLE. INSANE.

What happened you might ask? Think of the most amazing thing possible.

Nope, not it.

It’s WAY better than that.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking of climbing K2 right? Sorry…it’s even better than that.

So what happened? I’ll tell you.

I fell in love with the girl of my dreams.

Her name is Ali. She’s blonde, with blue-green eyes, and has a gorgeous smile. She’s smart, funny, kind, honest, and compassionate. She runs cross-country,  loves volleyball and basketball, and even rock climbs! And best of all, she is the single most Godly person I have ever met. She has the most genuine faith and the deepest love for God that I have ever seen.

So yeah. That’s Ali

We’ve known each other since the first day of class, and over the past two years we eventually became best friends. Through an amazing series of events that could only have been guided by God, we were brought together at exactly the right moment…which just happened to be the VERY LAST DAY OF CLASS.

Wow. that’s my reaction every time I think back to all that’s happened. I’m in awe of God’s goodness, and how incredibly blessed I am to be dating such an amazing girl.

I flew up to Cleveland last weekend and had the best 3 days of my life. What all we did is not exactly your business, but let me just say that I felt as if I was in heaven. I’ve also become a walking cliche…

So that’s my big news.

So what about the future?

Well, I work in Kansas for another 3 weeks, then I go up to Cleveland for a longer visit. Then I go to Iowa for most of August to paint my grandma’s house. I’m really excited because in less then 3 weeks the best part of my summer is going to happen!!

As I reread my last post a few nights ago, I was struck again by how much mountains truly mean to me. I look to them for the peace and solace that my soul can so rarely find. I had hoped to spend this summer in Colorado working there, but that didn’t work out.

Instead, I was forced to stay in what I consider to be the lamest place in America. If it wasn’t for my friends I would say it’s worse than South Dakota. I hate this place. That’s not a new attitude for me, it’s been my general feelings for the past 3 years.

I was convicted last night though while talking to Ali. She was saying how she had decided to make the best of each day, each moment, even if it wasn’t exactly what she wanted. I realized that I’d been pissed at Kansas for a long time. And, although i think kansas sucks, I’d been wasting a lot of time complaining about it instead of making the best of it.

So I resolved to make the best of each day. I set out today with a spring in my stride and a twinkle in my eye.

…for about 3 seconds.

then i stubbed my toe on the bed post and the twinkle turned out to come from the tears of pain from the searing light pouring in my window.

All humor aside, I was doing great until I began reading a section from Alpinist. Alpinist is the GREATEST mountain climbing magazine ever. It only comes out 4 times a year and it is full of pictures of mountains and stories of epic climbs. Within 30 seconds my mind was transported into a world of frozen mist, vertical rock, and endless skies.

I was in the Himalaya, the Alps, the Cascades, the Karakoram…Something deep within me ignited and the fire for the mountains was back. Instantly my pissy attitude was back and Kansas sucked. I want to CLIMB. I WANT TO.

Why?

Oh lord, not again…

Why?

I CANNOT ANSWER THIS QUESTION.

I don’t know. I honestly don’t. It’s just part of me. Part of who I am. I’m done being ashamed of it. I don’t care if it’s selfish, pointless, useless. It’s what I LOVE. The problem is if i ever want to climb, i need to spend time in the mountains! I need to LEARN. If i don’t learn and train then I will never be able to safely do the things i love.

It’s my big question now. Where do mountains fit into the future? It’s something I still have to think about, and still have time to think about.

In the meantime, I keep running. Keep dreaming. And keep hoping that the future has mountains.

I tend to avoid religion in my blog. I dislike writing about it because it inevitably feels shallow, cliché, and insincere. Today however, i’m going to break the rule. I’ve been thinking a lot about my life and where I see God in it.

I’ve come to the conclusion that I lack a feeling of relationship with him. I will not write about my thoughts, nor my inner convictions because they belong to me, and shall stay safely inside my head and heart. In my quest for re-identification I have realized a character trait about me and God. Religion is very personal, and I am uncomfortable in places where I have to expose it.

I’m not saying that I don’t talk about religion, far from it. I’m more than happy to talk about religion and philosophy. What I am not eager to talk about it my faith – what I personally hold dear. Only a few people are considered close enough friends to ever hear me expose my deep thoughts. For many years, this secrecy felt wrong, as if I were in some way ashamed of my faith.

It wasn’t until a few days ago that I finally realized that this was not a problem. I was reading a sermon by G. Campbell Morgan and in it he talked about “an inner song.” I asked myself what my inner song was, and realized that I had no idea. I then asked myself why I couldn’t hear my inner song, and received the answer that there was too much noise around me.

I love solitude (i’m sure that comes as a big surprise to those that know me) and no other place affords me this feeling as do the mountains. When I am in the mountains, almost all of life’s distractions are left behind.

Now before i continue, I must note that I have also just read “Wild at Heart” which is an amazing book. In it, the author draws a major distinction between the heart and the mind. The heart remains pure, while the mind becomes influenced by a “false self.” I quickly saw the connection between Morgan and Wild at Heart. My inner song comes from my heart, which is where God speaks to me.

It’s not hard to see where this is going. The mountains allow me to hear my heart, and thereby hear what God may be trying to tell me. Now, I’m not a big fan of prayer. Personally, I find it incredibly fake, pointless, and boring. Why should I have to say things to a God that won’t actually say things BACK? I do pray for one reason alone: God commands it.

So I pray. I read the Bible. I talk to wise men. I seek counsel. Yet I see not the presence of God, but the words of men – mine and others. When I am in the mountains though, I hear God. The mountain for me is a personification of God. All that can be found in a mountain can be found in God.

When I endeavor to climb a mountain, I pursue God. The lessons learned while climbing are directly transferable to my faith.

I have never climbed a major peak. I have never climbed in a style that contains any amount of danger. Yet even in my shallow and safe exploits in the hills, I see and feel the spirit that larger mountains bring. I want to climb them, and someday I hope i will.

Let us return to the beginning. My faith is inner, personal, secluded. The mountains teach self sufficiency, to be dependent on oneself. It breeds a quiet confidence. My faith is the same way. It is not brazen, i do not shout from the rooftops. I do not fill my speech with religious phrases. I don’t publicly thank God, nor do I feel comfortable praying with other people. It is individual.

I have made several other discoveries about myself, ones that I will not share. I am interested to see where they lead me. I seek for consistency, for authenticity. I hope that I can find these in my life, but more importantly in my faith.

I want to hear my inner song. I want to know what God has said to me. But I need some quiet.

I’m a moody person, and my moods are easily affected. I can snap from grumpy to happy, pensive to loud-n-obnoxious. To some extent this bothers me. The ‘man’ in me would like the think I’m above that sort of thing, but I’m unable to lie to myself.

I’ve come to just accept it. And to some extent, I’ve discovered things that seem to affect me more than others. Several things immediately come to mind. Mountains are a big one (no pun intended). Weather. People. Music.

I think I’ve talked about about mountains enough to not have to explain much. I’ve got this genetic makeup that makes my brain/heart go haywire when ever I’m in the mountains.

Weather, on the other hand, I don’t think I’ve properly discussed. Time to rectify that, in my not-so-humble opinion. So here it is, brace yourself, grab something solid. Why? Because I am about to say something that for some people borders on the sacrilegious.

I hate sunlight.

There it is…so stone me. Just please, do it on a cloudy day. So what’s the reason? Well, that’s a rather odd trip into Caleb’s mind, but here it goes:

Sunlight to me means summer. Sumer means work. Work means Concrete. Concrete means crappy summer. Crappy summer means bad fall. Bad fall means…i dunno, something…anyways:

That’s not quite the reason though. I’ve never liked the sun. It’s too bright. I much prefer a cloudy, balmy day with a little bit of rain, preferably in the morning. It’s kind of like a morning shower. I’ll give the sun one hour, around 1pm, just for the flowers.

Clouds are beautiful. Rain is cleansing. Sun just seems to make my acne worse. I don’t like the sea either. Well, not the sunny beaches. I think i just need to move to Scotland. Find myself a castle, a secluded island, and just enjoy the sound of the wind and waves while reading a good book and listening to a good CD.

And that brings me to music. Music is a gateway into my soul. It’s always been that way. It’s something that only a couple people in the world ever really knew, and could understand. The main one is my Grandma in Iowa. She’s always been able to understand why a song on the radio could make a bad day good, or vice versa. She know’s this, because she’s the same way.

A melody has the ability to wind it’s way through my ear, into my brain, through my spine, and find that little spot of me that makes the rest of me ‘click’.

The biggest thing that makes me not click, is people. I love my friends, I want that to be crystal clear. However, I don’t really like people, or better phrased: humans. I wanna be a Hobbit. But i’m sure there’d still be people if I was a hobbit so it wouldn’t change much. bugger it all.

Anyways, the chief thing about people that annoys me is their mannerism. I hate spitting. Guys who spit should have a sock stuffed into their mouths. Loud talking – rude. Talking loudly on a cell phone (especially in a quiet place) – EXTREMELY rude. Inviting yourself along – inconsiderate and manipulating.

There’s a lot more, but they all involve other people around me. It’s one of the reasons that I don’t like being around people much. Don’t get the impression that I don’t like spending time with friends. Quite to the contrary, I love doing that.

What’s the difference? Love. I love my friends, and I’ll forgive them their human characteristics because I know them. So the solution to my state of moodiness would resemble this:

I’m in Scotland

there’s a mountain nearby

I’m in a castle

it’s cloudy

Chopin’s 1st piano concerto is playing

there are lots of people around

and i am friends with all of them

in fact, i’m friends with everyone

the whole world

and i love my friends

so i love the world

————————————-

and then the sun would come out

the mountain would turn out to be inflatable

the castle would have mice

country music would be playing

and someone would spit.

and i would shove a sock in his mouth

and then people would be offended

they would stop being my friends

and i would not love them

and then i would sin

a lot

tons…

———————————————

several tons in fact

and that would be wasteful

which would cause more emissions

which causes global warming

which makes the sun brighter

and.it.just.keeps.getting.better.

College for me is a combination of beautiful simplicity, and intense confusion. The beauty is in the routine. Each day, I get up, and I do the same things over and over again. It’s comfortable, peaceful. I’m a habitual person. I like routines, consistency, and the predictability of  a steady week.

The intensity comes from the knowledge that this is not real. It’s a transition. Granted, it’s a four-year, very expensive transition, but it lacks the key elements of “life out there”. I’m always struggling to calm the storms that arise when the simple and confused collide. This ranges from money, to jobs, to relationships, and to whatever else happens to be afflicting my existence.

It’s  struggle to find a balance between the two. I’ve always hated feeling second-rate, and that’s a feeling that always seems to be present in college. It can range from poor grades, to troubles with money, to feeling insignificant.

The past two weeks I had 5 tests, in 5 days. I studied a lot, and overall the result wasn’t bad. I got a 92 in french, 102 in accounting, 95 in stats, 85 in SSFT, and 80 in physics. I’m satisfied. And that’s what’s bothering me…

This feeling of contentment is one that rarely ever graces my demeanor. I’m inherently discontent. It’s what drives me, focuses me, and ruins me. The same trait that makes me strive for good grades, can also bring to the surface personality traits that I work so hard to keep hidden.

I don’t want to imply a personal observation to other people, but I do think it’s safe to say that we all try to hide parts of ourselves from others. The motives vary, but the result is the same – fakeness.

It’s this that I want to combat. I want people to know me for who I AM. Not what they THINK I am. I want to know who people ARE, not what I THINK they are. By bringing to light all that we are, good and bad, we can find the things in us that we should change.

I think there will be a great amount of hatred towards those view individuals that practice radical honesty. Because of their openness, people will not have the luxury of having false impressions. Those honest few will be unfortunately known more for their negative attributes then for their positive traits. They will be degraded, mocked behind their backs. Yet they are the purest of humans.

They value honesty and truth, more than perceptions and illusions. The mirror of mists will be broken, and the person behind the reflection will be revealed. But what will happen to these few brave souls? Unfortunately, they will shine bright for a time, until the incessant deluge of human criticism drives them either to resignation, or introversion.

I am not one of these few people. I care far too much about what people think about me to ever come close to the level of openness that radical honesty demands. Tact has a place, but sometimes truth should be undiminished. Fortunately, I’m not very tactful…

…however, I am a bit of a dreamer. I embellish things. I have a potent imagination, that influences me more often than I might desire. Yet the world has a way of bringing me down. It’s as if the universe wants me to be honest, to be simple. Simple in the way that it is simple. Seasons come and go. The leaves fall and return. The snow covers, and then uncovers.

I’m not a mystic, I’m far too cynical to ever be a tree-hugger. But I am also simple. I want my life to run like the seasons run. To come and go in an orderly pattern. Yes, there will be storms and devastation. But regardless of how strong the winds, how stinging the rain, the flower will always bloom.

So where does this leave me? Well, I try to be more authentic. I try to be more spontaneous. I try to slow down, and appreciate the little things: Lunch with a good friend…a pretty view…a friendly stranger…an energetic squirrel…

I try to be more forgiving. TRY, mind you. I try to be more “in the moment” and I try to think about the future. It’s a fine balance between here and there, and I’m rarely ever find it. The balance is like a good hike in the mountains…

As I am hiking through a beautiful meadow, I also can see the far-off peaks. I can see the flower at my feet, with the bubbling stream at yet still see the rising, jagged peak that shows me where I am going. And I can look behind, and see the course of my travels in perspective. There will be times when I lose sight of the goal, path, or the past. Yet sooner, or later, events will bring me back to the path, and I will walk.

Always moving…that is what I am. Staying still, remaining constant, being stale…never.

“I wish I could marry an Elvish queen”

“I want to be a Hobbit”

“I love bagels”

“I need to focus”

“I want to climb an mountain”

“What celebrity do I look like?”

“Taxes. I HATE taxes.”

Yeah, so that’s just a few. Nothing in particular, just randomness. Inside all of the randomness though, there are a few repeating themes. The biggest of which is why do I climb?

I have thought for HOURS about this question and I honestly have no decisive answer. I have some thoughts, but no overarching solution to my philosophic quandary.

I know that climbing is fundamentally selfish. It benefits no one except the climber. Any attempts to bring purpose into the climb result in nothing more than a diluting of purpose and a shallow attempt to provide some long term significance to a culturally insignificant endeavor. Humanity is no better off for having climbed a mountain.

But it is not all about enjoyment either. Climbing can be incredibly painful. Suffering is fundamental to climbing. I think people who don’t climb can’t really understand this. Very few activities place such an importance upon suffering. Climbing is one of those few.

To suffer is to endure. To give in to the pain is to fail. To embrace the pain is to succeed. Suffering is the fire that strips the man away from the soul, and reveals the essence beneath. Without this crucible, there would be no purpose to climbing.

Suffering gives the climber the opportunity to become someone greater then he was before. It is not about the summit. It’s about the style, the path. To achieve a summit is nothing, if it does not come with a challenge. The goal is not to conquer. Success is not defined  by reaching the summit. Success comes from within, both in the mental battle to control the body, but also that the true goal is not the peak, a new route, or an FA. It’s determined within the person.

One of my most meaningful climbs did not take me to the summit. What makes it so important what I became because of the climb. Steve House writes about this in his book “Beyond the Mountain”

“‘Why?’ is the obvious question. We all know Mallory’s famous quip. “Because it’s there.” And there is Scott Backes’ more elitist version. “Because I can, and others cannot.” Neither answer explains this quixotic tilting against the windmill of gravity: a struggle, which at the outset one knows can never be won, though much can be experienced. Every climb ends, as does every life. And each ends where it began: on the ground, and eventually, in the ground. We always return again and again to earth, the beginning. The sum always equals zero”

“A great climb has all the components of a good story: a worthy goal, commitment, crises, effort and resolution. Some stories end with a summit, some with the approach, some with a storm, some with death. The conclusion is unforeseeable, the lessons hard-won and costly. The unanswerable question – why climb – becomes all the more intriguing and begs us another question: what is success?”

“My search begins at the moment of danger. The moment is pregnant with both tragedy and transcendence. Though the tragic is rarely realized, the seeds are ever present. Gravity is relentless, ruin a misstep away. I have learned to accept the fear, to let it pass and not paralyze me. Once it washes through me I possess something powerful: the confidence to act.”

“Action is the message. Success is found in the process.”

“I climb for more than momentary transcendence. I enjoy the lucid, calm thoughts that come after the climb, the cobwebs sandblasted from my mind. But this alone cannot explain why the feeling after a successful experience lingers for days, months, years, a lifetime.”

“I also crave evidence of existence. Yukio Mishima wrote that although the core of the apple exists, you cannot see it from the outside. The only way to prove the core’s existence is to cut the apple open. When the apple, or the body, bleeds and dies, the existence of the core is confirmed. I have cut open this metaphorical apple on a thousand climbs. I have seen beauty, have wept with joy; I have been astonished, and been horrified to the core”

“Climbing is not an attempt to transcend gravity or death for it is these intractable forces that actually create the endeavors. Without gravity, climbing would not exist; without death, what matters life?”

“We lift ourselves on the heights, sometimes leaving bereft families in the wake. For what? they did not, cannot, live this indescribable experience”

“Witnessing death is horrific. Does my panic stem from the loss of a friend or from the foreshadowing of my own demise? Or is my terror derived of Mishima’s apple; his proof of existence? Facing mortality my actions carry weight, my words heft, my life meaning.”

“Within Alpinism’s narrow framework we seek transcendence and relentlessly pursue what remains hidden from us on flat ground: our true selves”

“We should not be blamed for thinking our undertakings beautiful and grand, for they are. Meaning is born from struggle, and each of us has our own unique battle. I am always reluctance to abandon this state of grace that I have achieved, beyond the mountain.”

Steve House

Actually, there is a very good reason for my prolonged absence. I made a bet. With a girl. Oh yeah.

So I promised not to blog for the duration of th fall term, which I have kept. Now however, it’s time to bring everyone back to speed with my boring life. So, rewind 4 months ago…

My last post found me wandering around the grove city campus bemoaning my forced cohabitation with other mortals. My attitude towards other people changed slightly during the past semester. I studied less, played more, and overall, I had a better time. But all was not well.

As I studied less, I began to rock climb more and more. Soon, I was climbing 3 or 4 times a week, sometimes for as long as 3 hours a night. The more I studied, the more I needed to climb, and the more I needed to get out.

My captivity at college wasn’t too bad in hindsight, but it felt worse at the time. A brief recap of my term is as follows: move in, start class, sister gets married, midterms, sickness, thanksgiving, start work at Banana Republic, finals, first snow, last final, long drive to kansas, the end. The final outcome of the term: a 2.95 gpa. That stupidly low gpa can be placed directly in front of my demonic french teacher. I can rant for hours, but that would give her a modicum of importance in my life, and that I will NOT do. The witch can get run over by a white, middle class male for all I care.

Anyway, back to the topic. So I was rock climbing a lot, and becoming thoroughly consumed by mountains. I was reading mountain books, watching videos, blogging, planning for my winter trip, and all around day dreaming about climbing some of them. K2 is still top on the list, but the list has gotten MUCH bigger!

I began to plan for my trip to Colorado. My plan was to climb some winter 14ers, and hopefully get the angst out of my blood. I can say in all honesty that the only thing that got me through that term was knowing that a few days after christmas I would be climbing mountains. Sure enough, on the 28th of december I was driving to colorado!

I was planning on going with max, but the idiot buggered up his knee skiing the week before. I’m not actually mad at him, just upset that we couldn’t hit some summits together. maybe next year. But i’m getting ahead of myself.

So I went alone, much to the chagrin of my parents. I spent most of my time at the Slushers, and a few days in the Sawatch range. I climbed Pikes Peak on New Year’s Eve, and boy was that amazing! It was long, cold and my first cold weather climb. I almost didn’t make it. Almost. When I finally got to the summit, I just about cried. I was windblown, dehydrated, and couldn’t feel my feet. But inside, my heart was pumping with the thrill of having climbed a 14er in the winter! I was hooked.

I hoped to do another, but Mr Slusher had to work on some home projects, and I didn’t feel comfortable doing any solo climbs yet. So I sat out the week enjoying the Slusher’s marvelous hospitality…and all the food that came with it!

Monday, I went skiing, and that night drove to the town of Alma, where I slept in my car. I met a guy from texas, named Christian. He is about my age, and was pretty psyched about climbing. We had an ambitious plan to try a 3 peak set. We would climb one, take two saddles to the other two peaks, and descend back to the car. I felt that physically we could make it, but the weather decided that it didn’t like us. That morning was beautiful, but the peaks were covered in gray clouds. The winds were ridiculous, and the spindrift was insane.

We amended our plans, and decided to focus on Bross, the closer of the 3 and see what happened. We set off at 7:30 and made good progress to the Northeast slope that would be our ticket to the top. As soon as we reached the treeline, we were buffeted by strong winds. we climbed together until 12,000 feet. After that, we split up because I was moving faster. I was making good time until I crested the slope to the North ridge where I was smashed by 70-80 mph winds.

I almost turned back. Indeed, the remaining 1000 feet would be both a physical battle to summit, and a mental battle to persevere. In the end, I made it. I stood on the summit and roared. I made it, and felt so alive! The winds were insane! I had to jam my camera between two rocks, and weight the strap down with two more rocks just to keep it from blowing away!

I really, really wanted to climb over to cameron, which was only a mile away, but with my partner a 1000 feet below me, and the fact that I couldn’t see Cameron, I decided to descend. We got back to the truck at 1:30, and drove to Buena Vista.

We camped at Bongo Billy’s parking lot for lunch, and the used their wifi. I planned on resting the next day, which I later regretted, nevertheless, we decided to meet in Fairplay at 6:30 thursday morning for an attempt on Sherman.

Wednesday dawned and I slept in, I drove over to the swhela’s cabin, where I took a much needed shower. I spent the rest of the afternoon bouldering at the local wall, and then heading into town to use the wifi. I then discovered that Christian had returned to Texas, and that thursday was supposed to be nasty. I tried to get a girl from Boulder to come down, but the weather in Denver was too bad. I decided not to climb at 14er thursday, but decided to give a local 13er a try.

I woke up to a cloudless day, and got geared up for the climb. I was excited about it because it was a pure solo attempt, and there was no trail. I set off into the woods on my chosen line of approach, and after 3 hours of climbing realized that I had come up the wrong damn side of the mountain. I was cut off from the summit ridge by a nasty ravine. I made a couple of bad decisions, and ended up totally buggering the whole climb. By 11, it was obvious the only option was retreat.

I got back, and decided to return to the Slusher’s early. I did, and spent the next day hanging out with Tessa and Chrissy, and then going out for Chrissy’s 18th bday party! I had an absolute blast, but it had to end. Tessa and I drove back to Kansas on Saturday.

I felt strangely peaceful after this trip. I hadn’t climbed near enough 14ers, but I was calm on the inside. I’m pretty sure I’m going to work in Colorado this summer, and I’m totally stoked about the idea of working at 7,000′ and climbing 14ers on the weekend!!! AHHHHHH!!! that would be the bomb!

So all in all, the trip had accomplished it’s purpose: keep Caleb in college.

Well, Caleb is going back to college, and is excited about it. Unfortunately, I’m now possessed by winter mountaineering. I was watching a movie tonight, and feeling very peaceful, when I read a trail report from a guy who climbed Holy Cross. It was breathtaking. For 1o minutes, I was back in the mountains, climbing a frost-bitten peak, in the cold. And then i woke up, and I was sitting on the couch, eating reduced-fat Wheat thins. Curse it all. I could have survived, but then I read another, and saw this picture, and then the next…

I about cried. The urge was back. The angst returned. I need another week in Colorado. No, another month. Curse it, I needed a whole bloody life! Bugger it all, I’m going to explode.

I’d go on, but it’s late and I work tomorrow. You can expect another post soon about my thoughts on Mountain climbing. In the meantime, I need to say a few final things.

First, and MASSIVE thanks to the Slushers for their hospitality.

Second, I have moderate frostnip in my toes from Pike’s. It’s cool.

Third, well I just forgot. This really cool song came on and it’s sung by a really pretty girl, and suddenly I completely forgot all about what I was going to say…oh well

Lead with your feet and love the madness

I step out my door and immediately I’m greeted by the night. I love the night. I always feel safer, more at peace when the sun is gone. Tonight was beautiful. The stars were out, and there was a fog forming down in the bottoms so I headed down towards the creek.

As I crossed the bridge I took a right and headed into the fog. I watched as the fog swirled around my knees, hiding my feet from view. The fog was dense, forming a protective blanket over the soft, tender blades of grass. My attention returned again to the swirling fog that my passage caused. The dark, the fog, the stars, the sound of the stream…for a moment, I felt like everything was right. The darkness hid all the imperfections from sight, and just for a second it was as looking through a window into Eden, seeing things as Adam might have seen them.

I felt like an intruder, like I was somehow violating the serenity. I almost left then. After a while though, the fog seemed to accept my intrusion. I walked through the trees, and suddenly before me the fog opened and light entered into the night-time world. The light streamed through the fog, shooting forwards, straight into a drop of dew that sat at the tip of a single blade of grass. For a moment, that single drop of water shone like a diamond. The light refracting into a million different rays, slicing the darkness and blinding the eyes. It lasted but a second before the fog closed in once again, and returned the world back into a black and white painting.

I stood motionless, stunned by the beauty of what I’d just seen. In that frozen instant, I became aware once again of the stream. The sound more distant than before. I could hear now the other noises of the night. I heard the trees creaking, the sound of an acorn plummeting to the ground.

My mind drifted towards the acorn, and in moment of childlike curiosity I wondered what it would be like to be an acorn. To grow from a small point on a limb of a massive oak tree, slowly becoming bigger. The view clouded by leaves. Probably feeling trapped, isolated from everything else by the all-encompassing world of green. As you become ever larger, you can feel the strain grow between you and the tree, your bond weakening until at last, you finally fall. In that glorious moment of absolute freedom, you spread your wings and streak towards the ground. You strike the ground, bounce and tumble to rest, maybe on top of a dead leaf. You lay there, staring up at where you came from. The grandeur of the tree only now being impressed upon you.

You lay there exposed, watching as your brothers and sisters fall to the ground around you. Perhaps you lay there, undisturbed until the snows. Or maybe you are found by a squirrel that makes you his lunch. Maybe the squirrel buries you in the ground and there you lie, forgotten until spring. The snows begin to melt and the water soaks through your tough shell into the soft flesh within. You begin to grow, cracking your shell and pushing upwards towards the sky. At last, as the morning sunlight caresses the frost that laces the fallen leaves, you poke your tiny, green head above the blanket of leaves and squint at the light.

All around you your brothers and sisters do the same. Over the next decade you watch as one by one your siblings fail. A passing human breaks one, a grazing deer eats another. A harsh winter kills still more, until at last there is only you. All alone you reach upwards into the sky. You grow large, sinking your strong finger-like roots deep into the soil. You grow strong watching the land around change. For hundreds of years you stand until time begins to take its toll on you. Limb by limb, you begin to fade until at last you are only a trunk, standing bare among the forest of leaves.

As the light that you once blocked reaches the floor of the forest, a tiny green shoot pokes its head above the ground and welcomes in the spring. In a final act of love, all that you once were returns to the ground and nourishes your sons and daughters.

I place my hand upon the trunk of the tree. It’s rough bark digging deep into my palm, telling me that what I feel is real. I pull my hand away, brush off the dark flecks that stick to my palm and start walking once again.

I see the birds, the fog, the trees, the stars, the grass and I feel…whole…complete…

All that I felt that day washes away. The tallest mountain of doubt crumbles into the smallest speck before the peacefulness of my little Eden. For a brief period of time, I can almost pretend I’m not human. I can stand like a spectator seeing the world as what it might have been.

Moments like this actually make me grumpier, they make me hate civilization even more. I have to leave this for the noise, hassle, crowds of “life”. Is that really how we are supposed to live? Maybe for some people, but I sense in myself an ever-growing dichotomy between what I am forced to live and what I want to live. I find it harder to be happy, to be restful, to connect with people. I want to run away from everything straight into the peaceful embrace of the mountains, to spend the rest of my life in their shadow, climbing to their peaks and seeing the world from a mountain’s point of view.

That’s what I feel. I know it’s long and if you made it to the end then congrats. Either class must have been really boring or you are extremely patient. Give yourself a pat on the back and get back to life. It’s about all we can do in the long run.

Cheers

All in all, summer was a failure. I really don’t feel like going over every single detail about it, but suffice it to say that I think that was the lowest point I’ve ever been. The major point is that I am no longer there!

I am back at Grove City and thank God for that. I’m back with my friends, making new ones and having fun! Actually, I think i’ve been more social these past three weeks of school than i was most of last year…weird. So basically there are two dimensions of life here: academic and social.

Simply because I want to, I will begin with social. AWESOME!!! Way, way, way too much fun. I’ve gone rock climbing. I’ve played tons of racquetball. I’ve met some amazing new friends, I’ve watched movies, played video games, and just chilled. But best of all there is Campus Crusade for Christ or CRU as we call it.

This year has been and is going to be stinking amazing! We’ve been reaching out to the Freshman like nuts and I think we are going to have a great turnout! Most of the people from last year are back and we are stoked! I’m really looking forward to all that we have planned. I’m going to be leading a freshman guys bible study which should be fun.

So, now for academics…yeah…blah. that’s about it. The only class that I really like is Modern Germany. It’s with the best prof on campus and it’s a blast! Business Calculus and Speculative Mind are going to be tolerable. Accounting and French are probably going to be hell. Grendel’s mother is teaching accounting and Satan’s great-aunt is teaching French. Bad combo that…

I’m getting all my work done, and I’m not anticipating a hard year, but there is a TON of reading! I basically spend all my time reading. unless I’m playing racquetball…or going out with friends…or watching movies…well anyway, I’m spending a lot of time reading.

I’m trying to get a job at the Columbia Sportswear Outlet in town, and I feel confident about getting it, although it’s been over 2 weeks since the interview. I have my car, and my dorm is really nice. I’ve got a good roommate and good hallmates.

So why “rain” for a title? Because I feel like a desert absorbing the first rain after a long drought. School is rain, and hopefully being around good and godly friends I can actually bear some fruit for a change…

Cheers.

“Life sucks. That’s about the only way that I can put it. It’s not just one thing either – it’s everything. I’m being beaten financially, physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. I’ve never before felt so alone, so immanently defeated. It’s as if no matter which way I turn, whether to run or fight; or what I do, I’m losing. That’s if I already haven’t been beat. This is probably news to anyone, regardless of when you last spoke to me.

I keep secrets; lots of them. I love a feeling of seclusion. I love the protection that secrecy brings. There are very few people that I will talk to about my deepest feels, my darkest thoughts. Normally, I wouldn’t even consider writing this down for others to read, let alone post it on a public blog, but I’m too tired to care. I’m wasted, faded, and degraded.

I should be working 60 hour weeks. I should. Unfortunately, I’m not. There was been a continual dowsing of rain that has kept me to a low 50’s.My savings account is low, to low. I got a pay raise, but my car repairs have added up to over $800. Granted, I have bought a substantial amount of gear, but that was necessary for me to be able to do the outdoor activities that are pretty much the only thing that keep me from just giving up. If this was all, I could handle it. It’s not. My scholastic finances are based heavily on scholarships. The year started out well. Grove City College gave me $6900, which was the same as last year. The disappointment came from the Marine Corps Scholarship Foundation. This year I am only getting $2200, down $1300 from last year. I was hoping for an increase since my academics have been solid, but because my sister is out of school now, they think that my parents can supply more money. This would be true except that my parents aren’t paying any of the bill. So now I can take out more money in loans, which coupled with an increase in costs (car) means that I’m getting dangerously close to my loan limit. At this rate, I’ll not make it to my senior year without taking a break. Furthermore, I was hoping to change jobs to something more outdoorsy, but if this keeps up, I’ll be forced to keep coming back to SD to work because of the pay.

Not to sound rude and ungrateful, but life here is hell. It’s awful. I know no one my age, and very few people in general. I’m stuck in rural living with no places to go, and no friends. I don’t drink so that pretty much negates any events locally. Living with my grandparents is trying. My grandpa has the privilege of possessing the most irritating personality traits than anyone else that I know. My grandma is cool, and we get along well. I’m very grateful form them letting me stay here, and like I said, I’m not ungrateful, just frustrated.

Work is getting harder. I’m swearing more, laughing at more crude jokes. Even making crude jokes. I’m constantly degraded for being a virgin, for being a Christian, for not drinking. I’m yelled at for no reason, mocked incessantly and I’m run ragged trying to hold together my fragile shell that is my protection from the world. There is a stubborn silence from God, and a distinctive lack of spiritual growth in my life.

Emotionally? I don’t know where to start. The girl I thought I loved moved on. The strength that I thought I had in myself is gone. Shoot, I don’t even have an animal that I can love. I’ve never been so alone. Some of my good friends have called me, and I’ve talked to them and without this I would have surely gone mad. But it isn’t enough. Hearing a voice emanating from a rectangular object doesn’t satiate my need for emotional connections.

Physically my body is tired. My back aches in the morning from my awful bed. My wrists are starting to get worse. My hands are calloused and my feet feel remarkably similar to volcanic rock. Out of all my problems, this is the least. I love the feeling of physical exhaustion, but only when it comes with rest. This week I worked 62 hours, 6 days. I’ve gotten up at 5am for 7 days straight, and I haven’t had a chance to just let my body go slack. Today I wanted to go for a run, but I didn’t have the mental energy to get me out the door. I just sat on the edge of my bed in my briefs and stared at nothing for 20 minutes. I wasn’t even thinking. I just sat there blankly until the sound of the phone ringing startled me out of my stupor.

Last night was the worst night of my life. I got back from work just ragged. I was so ragged that I almost blew up at my grandpa for nothing at all. I spiked my hair and went to the movie theater and watched transformers 2. I was surrounded by people who were laughing, and smiling, and I felt…empty…devoid of any meaning, of any purpose. For a fleeting moment, I asked myself what I had left to live for. I have never before been so close to losing myself. I can see the edge of the cliff, but it’s like I’m sleep walking towards it. I can’t wake up from the nightmare of my life. I get a spectator’s view of my life falling to ashes and rubble before my life, and watch my soul falling withered to the ground.

I’ve never had frostbite, but I’ve read about it. The thing with frostbite is that it hurts until you get it. Once you’ve got it, your nerves are no longer sending pain signals to your brain. In effect, you feel pain when you’re ok, and when the pain goes away, it’s too late. The worst pain comes however, when you thaw the flesh. The skin and tissue is black, rotten, and dead. If you are lucky you may keep your limbs. Usually, you don’t. I think I’ve got frostbite. It hurts like hell, but I don’t know if I’m thawing or freezing. Does it really matter? Either way it’s only going to get worse. I’m powerless. My façade of strength is falling away like an iceberg sounding. Layer by layer, my life is falling into the sea and being swallowed by nothingness. I’m a shell.

I’ve written before about mountains and the solace that they bring. I burn with longing and desire to go to the high places of the world and lose myself in their vastness. At the same time, they comfort me and minimize me. I feel at once larger than life, and smaller than the smallest insect. I don’t know why they do this to me, but I’m fighting myself. I love them so much that I feel like a traitor for even thinking about going into business. But at the same time I feel like making my hobby my life pursuit is somehow doing too little. I’m too smart to hide away in a cabin and climb mountains I saw to myself. But am I just scared of doing it because I’ve always been taught not to take the easy way, not to trust my heart? My heart is the only thing left that lets me know I’m even here! Maybe not listening to it is the worst thing that I could do.

Passion is a gift. I’ve heard this many times. I’ve got passion, and I’m stifling it. There’s nothing inherently sinful about my passion unless it becomes an idol, so I’m not worried about following a sinful desire. I DON’T KNOW! I’M LOST, CONFUSED, TERRIFIED, LOST, ANGRY, LOST, depressed, lost, I’m just lost…”