Mojave solar plant scorching birds in mid-air

http://www.reviewjournal.com/news/science/mojave-solar-plant-scorching-birds-mid-air

Climbing: Angel's Landing

The spring break of my freshman year, 2013, my four closest friends and I took a trip to Utah and Nevada. Over the week, we had the privilege of visiting some truly incredible places, namely Zion Canyon in Utah, and the Valley of Fire in Nevada. The point of our trip was two-fold; clearly, being college freshman, we wanted to get a little rowdy in the wilderness, but we also had a clear goal in mind for the length of the trip. Nature was something that none of us were able to enjoy enough, so we wanted to take a week and take advantage of this opportunity.

Hiking was what we did every single day. Whether it was 2 miles, or 12 miles, our rag-tag group would awake at the crack of dawn, scarf down some breakfast, and slip into our hiking boots. Starting out in the Valley of Fire, we were able to climb these truly awesome rock structures, formed over hundreds of thousands of years of wind, rain, rivers, and fire. These structures peppered the Martian red landscape for our brief time in Nevada, and it was a pleasure waking up every morning to the gaping mouth of canyons and the towering mountains we would spend all day on, just relaxing. Taking in the view.

What was easily the most terrifying and exhilarating experience of my life was our last hike: Angel’s Landing. Utah hosts many natural treasures, but this treacherous hike is the most notable in my mind. After winding up a mountain for an hour and a half, and as the true span of Zion slowly creeps into view we reached what we thought was the summit. After taking a moment to take in the breathtaking scenery of thousands of acres of forest, we decided to eat lunch. Turning to our right, however, we noticed another trail leading up and across the mountain. Turns out, we were only halfway done with the hike. To speak succinctly of the remainder of our journey, our group spent the next hour focused on our feet and the chain we were holding for balance. With never more than 3 feet of walk-able ridge at our toes, we were forced to utilize the anchored chain, which happened to be the only physical object stopping us from plunging down 1,200 feet on either side, into the dense forest. Only once we reached the summit, and were able to take in an exponentially larger Zion, was I able to rest and truly reflect on our current situation. We were the highest in all of the land. Our group had conquered nature, and was looking down as warriors upon our kingdom. Thoughts of God, war, and meditation danced around each other in my head, never reaching a static subject. And that was the best part. So many intuitions and experiences were berating my mind, I couldn’t help but to sit back, be mindful, and just be.

I didn't make it all the way up.
And its ok.

I had never climbed a rock wall before and of course lied when the girl instructor asked me if I had.
I said a long time ago. The whole ceremony to prepare me and instruct me to climb the wall only made it look more of a daily sport than a challenge. But nonetheless I was scared.
I believe that in this situations that our bodies are not accustomed to ( or even more muscles I hadn't used in years), certain fear rises through our spine. Even though you wear a harness and a security belt and having a girl who weights half your weight on the other rope, going up always rises the possibility of falling down. You might just die, your brain thinks.

I took a deep breath and said to myself: ' Come on Sal, she's kind of cute. You can do this'.  And so started climbing and it resulted fairly easy. I was so impressed with my lazy being and even a slinky male instructor said: 'He is a natural'. Oh, the disappointment was going to be strong in this one. I managed to make it more than half way through although my arms were starting to give up (Oh don't you do this to me). I reached two orange blocks in which I could grab with my hands and I just needed to raise one foot more so I could push myself and reach the uppermost black brick.

But I slipped. I was suspended by the rope in the air, looking above. (shit.)
I returned as fast as I could to the wall to give it a second chance. I grabbed the two bricks again and position myself to take a dive for it. This time I my fingertips touched the black brick but my body fell. I ended up looking up, suspended again.

That was the instant in which I realized what all the readings had being saying: why Tenzing Norgay senior and junior,  Jon Krakauer and the afghan women were climbing.  In that fleeting moment, looking down doesn't help as it doesn't give you any way out. You only see the fall calling for you. And neither does looking up. Above there is only the hope of a peak, the other unreachable call for respect, for a success within and without yourself.

So, in the end, I am left only looking the only way I can, like a horse's blinders, here, or better called, inside.
I inevitably search within myself for an understanding of the reason I am doing this. And doing it because of a class was not it because, if I wanted to, I could have easily lied about having climb the wall and that would be the end of it: I did it and it was fun. But I was suspended in the air. Maybe I was doing it to impress the girl instructor (as if she hadn't seen millions of guys do it), maybe to tell my friends once I was done or maybe to feel strong. But maybe, just maybe, I was doing because I had to, because it called something in me.  And yes, it was a completely selfish act as I asked Chancellor Struppa of his climbing experience. It didn't benefit anybody. And I was ok with it. It didn't save any children from dying of hunger or saved animals from the cold. I understand that in our cosmovision of the world we need to give ourselves a purpose, like charities for cancer. But we are not all doctors or firemen: we do most things for ourselves. And I believe that is okay.  We do it all for ourselves and our selfishness, as Tenzing Junior says in his book Touching My Father's Soul: Obtaining 'Sonam' - merit - by saving a life is a great motivator, but compassionate behavior is also expressed through respect for one's own life." (188)

But I am doing it for the search itself.  To think about why am I doing all this things. Psychoanalyze oneself's decision when you are close to death. To realizes that the self absorption of going up for no purpose at all gives you a purpose within yourself. The greatest commitment you have to anybody, is with yourself, my mother always says.

So I tried again, and again, and again, and again. But my arms were far too tired. And I could not keep going. Not with hubris but with the respect in the platform for each step we take, as the sherpas believe. I respect the climb because I respect what it can teach me. And  it's okay because I learned about myself up there. I tried it for me and to admire myself because I admire the men or women brave enough to look at themselves from up above, from far away.

And to you Chancellor Struppa, I hope I didn't make you feel uncomfortable.

Sherpas in Nepal

The Mount Everest- the deepest search within.

Tenzing Norgay, the Sherpa mountaineer who climbed Mount Everest with Sir Edmund Hillary.

My experience on the rock wall was more tumultuously oriented than my original expectations. A series of ups and downs came to light for me Monday night at the Doti-Struppa rock wall:

Up: Excitement to try something new, for the possibility to succeed physically, to push myself

Up: My excitement transforming into encouraging friends outside of class to join me on the wall

Up: Arriving at 7PM sharp to be the first in line to learn to climb

Up, up, up

Up: Literally learning the ropes (climbing and belay), being enticed by curiosity and anticipation

Up: Mastering the knots and being validated by the instructor— maybe I will be good at this? 

Up, up, up

“On Belay?” “Belay On”

“Climbing” “Climb On"

Up, up, up

Up: Making strides physically upward

Up: overcoming the first big projectile obstacle

Up: encouraging words from friends below

Up: extending my full body length to reach the next height, balance shaky

WOAH, halt

Down: fear

Down: physical orientation of my view

Down: doubt I can continue

"Step on the rock next to your left knee and put your full weight there!"

Up: physical movement upward

Up: satisfaction of conquering that moment

Up: Encouragement

Up: ego and motivation

Up, up, up

Up: continued movement upward

Up: larger and larger strides up

Up: Removing my lower foot from its secure location long enough to make strides longer than my body length

Up: taking risks, unknown

WOAH, I need to work on my upper body strength

Down: fear

Down: doubt in my own physical ability

Down: me, in orientation to my friends who were much higher than me on the wall

Down: ego

Down: motivation

Down: "Ok I want to come down now"

Down, down, down

Down: secure on the ground, known, safe

Down: me, in orientation to my friends, who had made it to the top of the wall

Down: ego and motivation

Down: my attitude about my friends' success

Down: my belittling justification to myself that I was on a harder path than them

Down, down, down

Up: my friends using the same justification, and encouraging me that we should come back and that I would definitely had made it if I was on the same trail as they

Up: my own consideration of coming back to the rock wall and conquering it with new found wisdom and experience

Up: setting goals to improve

Up: Making plans for the future

Upon reflection, I realize that my experience on the rock wall was more attached to my ego and self-worth than that of my physical placement. Though I recognize the self-centered nature of my motivation, I think Up is healthy. Focusing upward may mean energy spent on comparing, pursuits of external value, and frivolous or narcissistic ambitions, but in the process of focusing upward we are forced to delve into the unknown and push our limits which is essential to self improvement, something we can all find of value to our experience of life. 

I plan to go back to the rock wall and improve. My sights are set upward.

Down But Not Out

I could not climb the rock wall at Chapman, so I did something else instead. I took pictures of staircases. I wanted to show these things that have used for centuries to propel mankind upward. To bring us to places we could normally never go, and even though for most people climbing the stairs is simple, for me it is impossible. For most people they are a gateway but to me they are a barrier. 

We talked about artificial limits, ones created by culture, religion, geography, politics, governments, economies, corporations. Ones that we put on ourselves and ones that are put upon us. But there are limits beyond us, ones that we did not create. Natural ones. 

Animals are born as part of a chaotic yet effective process of natural selection, that has allowed life to thrive and evolve on Earth. However, this process is not without its margin of error. In order to evolve, there must be genetic experimentation. There must be variation. That variation is what leads to great success, it is what allows a species to survive. However that variation can also lead to great pain, suffering, and death as not all variations prove useful. Some even end up causing more harm than good. But in the name of survival, the sacrifice of the few is worth the well-being of the many. 

And the system has never been questioned. Until us. We feel empathy, in ways that nothing else every have. Because we understand that every mistake, every miscalculation, every genetic failure of natural selection is a person. A person who, to no fault of their own, may face difficulties in life that others do not. A person who may have a harder time in life than most. But a person. One capable of thought, love, art, and so many other wonderfully human things. I am one of those people. 

For me, disability has been a struggle. I’ll never stand at the top of Mount Everest, I will never stand at the top of Mount Anything. I can never rock wall climb. I can never go up in that sense. I can not put those limits on myself because I do not have that choice. I may never have that choice. I can never backpack through Europe, I can never traverse the beaten path, or go up and down the world, to places where cars can never go, to the beautiful and terrifying places that civilization has yet to conquer out of either impossibility or respect.  There are restaurants and buildings I can never get into, because they are too high up, because my legs cannot carry me up like they do for most people. Simple tasks made infinity more complex because of my condition. 

I have to wonder, what kind of person I would be if I had had all those choices. If I could go as far and as high as everyone else. Of I could climb those walls, scale those mountains, make those journeys. I like who I am, most days, but my limits have shaped that, and there’s always a part of my that wonders what life without that limit would be like. If maybe my life would be a bit better if I could climb a flight of stairs without my legs giving out from under me.

I live with it, I survive despite it. Even with Chapman’s plethora of stairs, they have elevators. 

They have ramps. I can go where everyone goes, I can go as high up as everyone else; with the notable exception of Smith Hall, the basement of which I can get into but the actual building is impossible for me which is kind of a bummer if I am being honest. 

Humanity and its empathy have helped me a great deal. I’m sure for some of us, it is still survival of the fittest.

-You’re born fast, you go fast

-You’re born strong, you are strong

-You’re born with working legs, climb the stairs.

And if you can't do something, then you can't do something. 

But the disadvantage nature has put upon me, and millions of others, is unfair. There are a growing number who believe that everyone should have the same chances. The same choices. That going up, whether literally or figuratively, should be an ability everyone has. Taking down the limits put upon us by nature is an important step toward equality, and an important step toward bring humanity up together. 

Climbin' Mountains

Although I have climbed the Chapman rock-wall, I want to use this blog to reflect on my experience with mountaineering instead.

At the end of August, 2015 I flew to Seattle with a bag full of camera gear, borrowed hiking boots, crampons, and an ice axe.  I was on my way to climb the highest peak in Washington: Mount Rainier. At 14,109 feet, Rainier is a modest challenge in the world of mountain climbing, but a daunting challenge to a 19 year old from Wisconsin who had no previous experience with glaciers.

On the descent into the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport, I caught a glimpse of Mount Rainier from a window at the opposite side of the plane.  Mount Rainier is a volcano and doesn't belong to a specific mountain range so it is very isolated on the landscape.  The next day I would be on the ground, looking up to the summit. In my seat in the airplane I let out a quiet "holy shit".

The next day, my group of 9 climbers drove from the city to Mount Rainier National Park.  We spoke to the park rangers.  They gave us a number of black bags that were to be used to hold our waste if we needed to relieve ourselves on the mountain.  It is against the rules of the national park to leave any feces anywhere within the park.  In the rangers office, there was also a sign warning climbers to keep an eye out for any signs of two climbers that had disappeared earlier in the season.

Our climb took five days.  Initially, we failed to summit one side of the mountain, due to poor conditions late in the season.  After two days of hiking, we descended, drove to the other side of the mountain and started all over again.  The most remarkable part of climbing mountains is the conditions that you sleep under each night.  Although it was freezing cold, and the winds were deafening, it was undoubtedly the most beautiful place I have ever spent the night.

On the fourth night of our climb, we woke at 1:00AM, and began our scramble to the summit.  We climbed through the night, with only the moon and the light from our headlamps illuminating the treacherous terrain of "the Disappointment Cleaver", an infamously rocky pitch.

The sun began to rise as we were crossing a ladder over a deep crevasse in the glacier.

We summited around 8:00AM, and then descended the entire mountain.  In total, we spent 17 straight hours climbing on the last day of our trip.

I have never done anything so difficult in my life.  The metaphor of the parabolic geography and the infinite distance is extremely accurate in describing the never-ending march of mountain climbing. With every belabored step, it seemed that the distance to the summit was only growing larger.
About 500 feet from the summit, the winds were so strong, that when we sat to rest, I began to hyperventilate.  I had an anxiety attack so close to the summit that I could see other climbers beginning their climb down ahead of us.  I began to think about all of the things that could go wrong, and how there was no immediate rescue or help for miles and miles.

Eventually, the guide calmed me down and we trudged slowly to the crater at the top of the volcano fighting the wind and the elevation every step of the way. I was roped behind two grown men, weighing about 200 pounds each.  When we reached the summit, the winds were blowing at over 100mph and I watched as the two men in front of me were picked up by the wind and blown across the ice.  I was dragged behind them.  This scared the shit out of me.  I began to have another anxiety attack.  I don't remember looking out onto the landscape while we were on the summit.  I had my head buried in my coat, wishing I was safe at sea level.

For me, mountain climbing has everything to do with mental strength.  The reason it is so difficult, is because every step of the way, you want to turn around and go back.  You must convince yourself to push on.

Chancellor Struppa spoke to the class about his previous experience climbing mountains, and throughout the class, many of his ideas paralleled the feelings that I experienced on Mount Rainier.

He spoke of how isolating it is to climb a mountain, and how meditative that isolation is.  This is a feeling that I have never experienced anywhere else.

The thing that I struggled with was Chancellor Struppa's sentiment that mountain climbing is selfish.  I disagree.  I feel that in many ways, climbing Mount Rainier was an experience solely for myself, but I never felt selfish.  If anything, I felt that I was punishing myself.  I felt that by testing my limits in this way, I was learning a lesson that was manifested in something much deeper than myself.  Pushing myself to my limit and feeling such great anxiety in such a high place, overlooking the entire state of Washington was extremely humbling.  I did not feel like a hero.  I felt weak.  For the first time, I felt that I understood the scale of the world, and I could see my place in the grand scheme of everything.

(The view of Mount Saint Helens from Mount Rainier)

UP on a Ladder

While my version of achieving "upness" didn't come from climbing the rock wall, I did work on a film set for the last two weekends in which I was the sound mixer and primary boom operator - basically the person who manages audio recording and quality on set. This is my emphasis at Dodge College, one of the smallest emphases and also one of the more under-appreciated aspects of the filmmaking process.

This set was a difficult one in particular because we shot on a sound stage for both weekends, and the film itself was a comedy, which provides that most shots are completed in a wide. This makes my job particularly difficult when I operate the boom, because I always have to stay ABOVE the actor's heads, tracking them around the scene, in order to catch their dialogue and movements with the mic. When we were shooting over at Panther Productions, some of the shots were so wide that I had to sit at the top of a 25 foot ladder and maneuver from there.

Photographic Proof

Now I'm aware that 25 feet isn't nearly as tall as the rock wall, but the boom pole I was handling was also extended to 20 feet, which I had to hold for takes up to four minutes long. There was no tether, nothing holding me to the ladder, I was the fulcrum and had to focus heavily on maintaining balance while doing my job.

Associating audio mixing and sound design with the concept of UP has been an interesting journey for me, as I'm deviating from the concrete definitions of down and up, and delving more into the figuratives on how good audio has good levels, HIGH levels, while audio that is recorded too LOW can be muddled or impossible to work with. Especially when booming, the best quality audio comes from booming from above the actors, dangling the mic downwards towards their chest.

The struggle too comes from resisting gravity and keeping your arms up and steady enough to stay in a good position for the duration of the shot. Endurance is key, and the balance and focus that the job requires reminds me of the tactical skill necessary also for scaling a rock wall.

Going Up– A Risk Worth Taking?

There are three things that come to mind when I think of rock climbing:

The Princess Diaries, REI and that Seinfeld episode where George and Kramer accidentally drop Elaine’s hot boyfriend (Tony) down the side of a mountain.

These references make it clear that I don't rock climb… I don’t climb rocks?

I’ve always loved hiking— that’s the closest I’ve ever gotten to climbing, but I hike for a different reason than most rock climbers or mountain climbers enjoy their activities. Hiking, for me, is more about getting out to enjoy nature. Trudging uphill through the woods is a safe and relaxing space for me— there’s no extreme challenge involved there. Rock and mountain climbers are looking for a challenge, that physical feat. I’m just trying to enjoy the pine trees.

Wildwood Trail, Portland, OR

After reading an article about heroic Afghan women climbing treacherous 16,500-ft. mountains and viewing a film in which climbers died in their pursuit to summit Mt. Everest, my attempt to scale the university’s recreational rock wall seems dwarfed and insignificant in comparison. After listening to Chancellor Struppa passionately discuss mountain climbing and the emotional connection fee holds toward it, my trip up the rock wall looks a bit less inspired. 

There are individuals who hike mountains so high above sea level their lungs and their brains and bodies are screaming at them to turn around, but they keep going. The Afghan women were at risk of being attacked and captured in mountainous Afghanistan, but they kept going. I couldn’t make it to the top of the rock wall because my forearms hurt and I swear there weren’t enough things to grab onto the higher you go up that wall. 

I remember being about three quarters up the wall, not having relied on the rope that I was tethered to, too untrusting to believe that anything but my own hands and feet were going to keep me stretched across that wall. Not only did I consider the vastly different physical effort that goes into really rock climbing, but I was also struck by the immense amount of trust and teamwork that are involved in real efforts to scale mountains and cliff sides.

(By the way, this is what really rock climbing looks like to me)

I think in extremes

My expert belayer, Haley, didn’t allow me to unravel into the ground, and for that I very much appreciate her. While climbing, and especially while swinging off the wall to prove to myself that I wouldn’t plummet, I was concerned with my knot placement, if I had locked the karabiner correctly. Did Haley have the appropriate grip on the rope? Was she strapped in correctly? I realized how technical the process of rock climbing can be and how much risk is involved when all that keeps one upright is a figure-eight knot that they tie themselves. 

There is a great deal of risk involved in attempting to reach great heights. There are great risks, but there is also great payoff. Despite the physical pain, the discomfort, the struggle to keep going, Chancellor Struppa spoke so intensely about the experiences he had mountain climbing. The passion that he had (and still has) for climbing mountains didn't really make me want to climb 10,000-ft (there's just no way), but I feel compelled to discover what in life could bring me that level of fulfillment and accomplishment.

Up may be risking, up may be unknown, but up is triumphant and high-spirited. 

Adventure, Fear, and Security

I consider myself a thrill-seeker. An adrenaline junkie, if you will. I am obsessed with roller coasters (having ridden 137 different coasters around the world), I've gone skydiving, I've rock climbed, and I have quite the bucket list of thrilling things that I have yet to do. However, I was not always like this. In fact, I was absolutely terrified of heights. And the funny thing is, in some ways, I still am.

For this assignment, we were required to go climb the rock wall on campus. A simple task for some, yet demanding for others. For me, it was just a fun activity to distract me for a little while. There was not really any fear involved, no adrenaline, and yet, it was still thrilling. The thrill comes from partly what Chancellor Struppa was talking about - the experience of conquering something, of doing something physically challenging and overcoming that adversity. Because, in the long run, you want to feel good about yourself. That's partly what attracts me to other adrenaline-fueled activities.

Because I'm scared.

Because forcing myself to overcome fear, to do something that is dangerous and terrifying, is a high. It brings me up. Both from the physical release of dopamine/adrenaline, as well as the personal sense of satisfaction for conquering a fear. 

Scared of heights? Learn how to trapeze! Yes, this is me miserably failing on a trapeze. Yes, that is spandex. Yes, I'm kind of embarrassed. But I'm FACING THAT FEAR of embarrassment.  

The thing is, things like roller coasters, rock walls, and even skydiving no longer scare me. Sure, there is a sense of danger - if something went wrong, my life would instantly be on the line. But with all of those things, I have a sense of security.

I'm comfortable.

There have been roller coasters that I have ridden in order to relax. To just close my eyes and enjoy the movements. California Screamin' is a nostalgic and perfect example of that - I could ride it a million times, simply because it's fun and it's comfortable. I could fall asleep on that ride if I tried, and I love every second of it. That comfort comes from the built in "safety" of all of these activities - the roller coaster harness, the person holding your rope on the rock wall, the parachute...they all make me feel secure. My fear seems to be gone maybe partly because of facing it, but mostly because I have put all of my trust into these safety mechanisms, none of which are 100% functional.

Skydiving over a glacier. Highly recommend.

The fear might not be there anymore, but the adrenaline still is. I am comforted by the perceived safety, and yet all of these activities are a way to bring me closer to the possibility of death - something that Chancellor Struppa said fascinates him. And it fascinates me too; being that close to death is exhilarating, and you feel you have accomplished something by surviving. But that safety harness still exists, and that's the only reason I'm not scared of that close proximity to death.

I have tried to face my fears without those safety measures. The fear exists, and it is still quite strong. I climbed a mountain in New Zealand, stood out on the edge of the highest overhanging rock, and I was absolutely terrified. Why is it that now, when I am not that much closer to death than with any of the other thrilling activities, I am suddenly worried? I suddenly actually fear for my life? The thought that the unstoppable force of gravity has the ability to pull me down to my instant death with just one falter of my body.

The aforementioned mountain (with some lovely MS Paint arrows). Left to right: Tip of the mountain as seen from 3/4ths of the way up; Tip of the mountain up close; My hand on the tip of the mountain cause art and stuff.

The fear also exists when (and because) things are in my control. I am a klutz. A complete and utter klutz. On the hike on that mountain, I tripped and fell to my knees at least 10 times, especially coming down. So standing on top of that rock was terrifying because I knew that one klutzy move could be my instant demise.

And yet, I loved every second of it.

Struppa understood perfectly the mindset that I have with all of this. There is nothing more exhilarating, nothing that makes you feel more alive, than the feeling of imminent death. An interesting contrast, really. This desire to feel alive by confronting death has brought people to their actual deaths, as both the Chancellor and the readings told us. But those incidents don't stop us. In fact, they may even encourage us. It's that crazy, self-empowering death-seeking mentality that gives adrenaline junkies like me the feeling of life.

Though the rock wall was fairly easy for me, though the risk was not very high, I still loved it. I faced the danger, I overcame it, and I feel proud of myself after such an accomplishment. It is selfish, yes. But there are few things that people do that aren't selfish. So if it is selfish but it makes me happy, it makes me feel alive, then I am just going to keep on being selfish. I am rambling a bit at this point and possibly have strayed a bit from my initial topic and talked a bit too much, but my message is this: being "up" brings me up. It's as simple as that.

Shoshin

In 1960, psychologists Gibson and Walk constructed a visual-cliff apparatus to study the depth perception of infants, positioning the very young across from their mothers, separated only by a plexiglass plate. Depth perception is typically grown before the ability to crawl, saving children from their own mishaps - ie. rolling off tables, chairs, and the like. Gibson and Walk found that in contrast to this, 75% of infants would brave the apparent drop-off when their mothers called to them from the other side, and were more responsive to these calls when the face across the cliff was smiling and encouraging. The psychologists concluded that humans are not born fearing heights, but develop this fear during the stages of infancy.

Some pretty cute babes ready to cross the glass.

Two thirds of the way UP Chapman’s rock wall, I could go no further. The nimble, attractive man belaying me - who only minutes before had scaled this particularly difficult section of the wall in seemingly one breath - had stopped reminding me that I was doing well. I bring UP the visual-cliff study partially to have a laugh at my own infantile need for encouragement at all times, but also because I think the concept of the child-mind, itself, it what our conversation with Struppa was missing on Tuesday.  

While I wholeheartedly agree with his critiques of extreme climbing culture and the motivations behind those who participate in such activities, I was intrigued by what in my personality was so on board with his selfishness message, when there were so many reasons to dismiss it in favor of more generous interpretations. As an artist, I think I relate on some small level to the Chancellor’s struggle to justify his own passion. Why am I, with all the resources I have been given, not doing something more useful or productive to help others?

Shoshin is the Zen concept of “beginner’s mind,” or “child’s mind” - the capacity of the individual to come to new or advanced study in any subject without preconceptions, with the mind open to all possibilities. In opening ourselves up to any sort of mindful practice, be it sport or art or other, if we are able to return to our fearless infancy, in times when fear is no longer useful to us, we may be able to eradicate the sort of pride Struppa discussed. “There is no courage without fear,” he quoted to us from I don't remember the source, but then there is no courage without pride. Simply investing in the act, without any self-perception of bravery, will help us on our journeys with the mountain, and will help us cross safely to our mothers, our return to the ground.

I cannot present a solid rationale for putting the lives of others at risk for our own sport, but I do believe seeking limits is a fundamental part of the human experience - like everything else, we must come at this endeavor with no expectations of ourselves. No fear, no courage, no pride - in order to keep a more true perspective.

alternate_nevermind_cover.jpg

I wasn't going to only use photos of babies but once that google search happened it was all over. 

http://www.kokdemir.info/courses/psk301/docs/GibsonWalk_VisualCliff(1960).pdf

Where is up?

I decided to climb the rock wall with my sister Sophia.  She is a senior and had never climbed the wall so we were both very excited and curious.  When we arrived, there were people already climbing, and they were doing very well.  A few of them made it to the top.  I was definitely influenced by watching others climb.  I thought it was going to be a breeze.  It was not.  As I was climbing it felt as if I was moving in slow motion, calculating every little move.  I think I became a little paranoid.  

Sophia and I were partners, meaning that we were attached to each other and one of us climbed while the other was controlling the ropes on the ground.  This involved a lot of trust.  The fact that we are sisters made me feel comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time.  Of course I trust her, but there’s a certain playfulness that comes with our relationship.  For example, we could not stop laughing at ourselves and at each other while climbing.  This made me uncomfortable.  I have a fear of getting hurt, and I wanted to be serious.  Let's just say that I was happy to be back down.

My sister climbed first and I watched her the entire time.  My neck became stiff from looking up for so long.  Looking straight up, it was as if the wall became the ground, and it was as if Sophia was crawling along along this ground like a toddler.  I became disoriented and she was not going up anymore.  It was at this moment that the idea of subjectivity and perspective really set in.  This reminded me of when we looked at the pictures of the astronauts floating in space.  There was not a correct answer to the question “Where is up?”. 

I really enjoyed hearing Chancellor Struppa discuss his experiences with mountain climbing.  His honesty and openness is inspiring.  The idea of the artificiality of the whole thing really struck me.  Struppa claimed that he and the other recreational climbers chose to stress their bodies and essentially risk death for no necessary reason.  The challenges they were faced with weren’t real challenges.  Struppa also discussed the sense of friendship and the bonds that were made while climbing.  I believe that these bonds were made out of necessity.  It was necessary, in order to survive, that people help to take care of each other. 

I experienced this dependence on my sister while climbing the rock wall, obviously on a much smaller scale.  It is true that going through a challenge with someone brings you closer to that person.