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| Thomas on the FA of Leprechaun, 7a+ |
They say when you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes. Sometimes I wonder if I am actually an old lady on my death bed, because I just blinked and all of a sudden it is June 9, 2015... I’m married, I have a career underway, and somehow I’ve ended up in Switzerland for the time being.
The past three months have taught me a great deal about balance. It’s funny, because I’ve always considered myself a) good at slabs, and b) good at multitasking and juggling life’s chaos...But the last three months have knocked me flat on my ass. Obligations and engagements have whizzed by faster than the speed of light and left me teetering on one foot, fighting gravity’s heavy pull.
In terms of slab climbing, balance is a funny thing to watch. Especially here in Magic. Arms stick out and flap like birdy wings as climbers meticulously shuffle their toes in attempt to clutch the perfect yin and yang; The zen state that allows them to draw in one steady breath of such fragile stability before facing the next hurdle. Then their exhale begins to shake.
Behind the climbers are several extravagant carins, balancing in the most bizarre and unthinkable positions. They stand tall and proud, inherently mocking the climbers who are spitting off Grit de Luxe.
After I fell off the tricky mantle a couple of times, I sat down and stared at the sculptures; The river thrashing behind them while they remained still, calm. Intrinsically zen.
Maybe the reason I’m not good at slab climbing anymore is because I forgot how to balance. Not just in terms of climbing, but on the larger scale of things; Life.
I probably sound like some floofy hippie searching for the intricacies of life in the subtle foot placement on Grit de Luxe, but hey...I’m just going to roll with it. Because I’m an English major and because I enjoy symbolism. Because I can and because for me...my subtle foot placement actually depends on so much more than mere accuracy and precision.
I haven’t been putting the amount of hours into training that I had planned to. I didn’t know how to balance planning a wedding, visiting with in-laws while living in a van and fretting about tourist visas, finances, and Canadian immigration procedures. Most the time I wanted to pull my hair out and cry. So when I could climb, it was unfocused. It was a release of pent up frustration and stress as I would launch myself mindlessly between holds. Once I had unleashed enough of my frustration, I would try to collect myself and analyze my movement. I would try to hone my mental craft for the last bit of the session, but I was unable to focus. My confidence was shot and my climbing fell into a huge slump.
The bottom rock on the sculpture bulges way out to the side. It would surely tip over if the other rock wasn’t standing on its head.
I peer closer. There is a tiny pebble wedged underneath, supporting the entire system. Giving up on the climb for a little while, I began to make my own rock art. But my carin was boring, straight and sequential. An unimaginative pyramid with the biggest stone on the bottom and the smallest up top. I sighed, taking another look at the wiggling physics fighting climbers on Grit de Luxe and decided ‘this isn’t what balance looks like...”
The next try I did the mantle.
The next try I did the mantle.
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Flashed
