In the past few years, I’ve gained the most insight into my life then when I’m tied into the sharp end of a rope, at a mental and physical brink in the mountains. I learn something important every time I go climbing. As a tiny speck in the immensity of nature, I’m always humbled.
Certain experiences can be undeniable in their relevance to seemingly unrelated facets of life. In climbing, style is everything – it defines success, whether you reach the summit or not. The same is true for almost everything we do in life.
The past few weeks, despite my efforts to convince myself otherwise, college midterms were having their way with me. Bogged down in my job and academics, stressed out and frustrated, my days had become a draining routine, interrupted only by sleep, beer and the occasional chance to go for a run. After a grueling bender of editorials, research papers, exams and mind-numbing stints in the library, I checked out and drove out to Smith Rocks State Park with two of my climbing buddies in an attempt at rejuvenation. I was in store for yet another week of the same come Monday.
Not the strongest climber among the three of us, I was somewhat at the mercy of my companions’ motivation. I would follow the climbs that they lead, working to clean their gear from the rock on routes more difficult than I was accustomed to climbing.
The next day before I’d fully woken up (I forgot to bring coffee), I found myself halfway through one of the most difficult climbs I’ve ever been on, tired as hell, cold and just as frustrated as I’d been at school in Eugene. I’d made the mistake of believing my attitude would improve with a simple change of setting or activity. Of course, I was wrong and just as drained hanging on belay in the cold as I was staring at a computer screen in the office.
I’d breathe on my clasped hands to warm them up, try a couple of moves, lose my strength and fall, stammering various combinations of four letter words. Hanging angrily in my harness, my line of sight moved from shadows on the cold, red rock in front of me, to the remaining route above my head, to my tiny-looking friend Joe belaying me on the ground. He looked obnoxiously relaxed down there on the ground, sitting on a rock with his crossed legs outstretched. I’d had enough. I told Joe I wanted down.
“Get up and finish it Lucas. You’re not coming down,” he yelled back, to my utter discontent. I knew he meant it, too. Unless I adjusted my approach to the task at hand, I was going to sit on the end of a rope all day. I had to refine my style, applying myself more cleanly and efficiently. The only way for me to alleviate my frustration was to immerse myself in the process and hone my concentration.
Being careful and focusing on the nuances of my climbing, I was able to progress up the route, controlling my breaths and maintaining concentration. I paid close attention to my feet placement, planning ahead, being careful not to overgrip larger holds. I kept good body tension and moved slowly on moves that required balance, and I dug deep for strength when I need to pull down on small holds. I had forgotten about the top of the route, but was steadily moving toward it.
When I finished and began cleaning the gear from the anchor, I wore a sheepish smile on my face. Joe’s refusal to let me down had forced me to remember something I already knew: Style is everything.
Bogged down in Eugene, I had thought, “If I can just get out of town, take a load off go climbing, I wouldn’t feel so frustrated.” But simply changing venue, or what it is you’re doing, won’t accomplish that. It’s how you actually do it that matters. Your style will ultimately determine your success.
If you build a beautiful home, but in the process ruin the flow of groundwater on your property, is your home really beautiful? Or if you fill out your midterm election ballot without carefully considering the implications of your choices, does your vote really mean anything? Finishing things for the sake of finishing them may give us tangible results, but in reality, we accomplish very little in this approach. It never pays to be reckless in one’s style.
Ultimately, I get reminded that process matters more when I need it the most. It’s important to take time to examine the style in which we live our lives, not just the results of our actions.
I’ve found that when I focus on the specifics and take pride in my style, I’m always pleased with the outcome, even it’s not at all how I’d pictured it. Practice this when you can afford to in the present, or in moments of retrospection. When your style becomes the focus of your actions, their results will inevitably exceed your expectations and the process will cultivate insight for the next.
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