Tuesday, February 24, 2009
A Climbers Journal
I walk out on the snow, ice axe in hand. I hear the familiar crunch of my footprints as I begin the slow arduous slog up the mountain. The wind is playing with me today. Its faint whisper against my ear alerts me to its presence only to blow itself into silence again. I walk on axe in hand, the weight of my pack like a comfortable old friend. It’s the middle of the night but my body doesn’t seem to mind. The glow of my headlamp coupled with the natural lightness of snow and the play of moon shows me the way. As I climb the stiffness leaves my mind and is replaced by the stillness that only the fluidity of my rhythmic steps can provide. I am a climber and my body knows this. My climb today was short, as I have work in a few hours, yet I needed to climb. I need to know this snow, this ice, this mountain. As I walk back to my car, the sun rising off my left shoulder, I feel accomplished with the steps taken today. And tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow I will wake again well before dawn and walk out on the snow, ice axe in hand.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
I'm Still Waiting
“I’m still waiting”, said the voice.
“I know”, said the man, “but I’m busy all the time. I have to do this first. I’m still becoming.”
“Oh”, said the voice. “What are you becoming?”
“Why, myself”, said the man.
“What do you mean? Are you not already your self?”
“No, I’m not. Or at least I don’t think I’m done becoming myself yet.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
“Nothing, I’m not waiting, I’m in the process of becoming. That’s why you are still waiting!”
“Your wrong”, said the voice. “The reason I’m still waiting is because you are afraid of becoming.
“Afraid of becoming? I’m not afraid of becoming.”
“Then become. Become right now. This second. I want to see you become.”
“It doesn’t work that why”, the man replied with edge in his voice. He was feeling exasperated with the voice. What did the voice know anyway? What did the voice ever become? The voice was just a voice. The voice didn’t have obligations, responsibilities, people depending on him.
“Yes I did and I do”, the voice strongly interjected.
“How did you do that?” wondered the man.
“The same way I know you are the one to change me through changing yourself,” the voice calmly replied. “I know what it is to become. I have been becoming for thousands of years. Do you think you stop becoming? That one day you get to the end of becoming and there is a ceremony or something and a stamp of approval that reads, “The Man has now become. He is ready to begin living.”
“No” sulked the man.
“Everyday is a becoming. Every day I have changed and became anew. I am weathered and am built up, I am conquered and I am the conqueror, I am dreams, hope and despair in equal parts with joy, happiness and achievement. I am east and west, north and south, I am all the elements of this life and all the elements of lives past. Everyday, I become as everyday you become. For everyday the process begins again and every day you are shaped by the days past. The process is happening whether or not you are aware of it. And this is why I wait for you. For your becoming is tied to my own. You are destined to change me as I will change you. You will challenge, conquer, fail, succeed, you will know joy and sorrow in equal amounts and I will push you as you will push me to become new and through this our daily reinvention will occur. We will never be the same day or spirit again. And nor will our becomings be the same again.”
“Who are you?” said the man, his heart filled with trepidation
“Why, I am rock”, chuckled the voice. “I am the rock that has been waiting for you to come. I have endured the centuries and men have tested themselves against the time of me. Some have succeeded and some have failed but all have become. Out here, a knowing is revealed within each of us, some can’t deal with the knowing, some can. I think you CAN. So I wait. I stand here strong looking the sun, the wind, the moon, the sky, the lark, and all life in the eye. I bear each day and give each day. And today, I again wait for you to come. To come and change you, me, and all that surrounds us.”
“I will come,” said the Man. “Just not yet.”
The sound of the Voice laughing infuriates the man. “Why are you laughing?” screamed the man. “I know I am becoming. I am becoming this very day. I don’t have to beat myself against you to become. I will get there but I have to do this first.”
“That’s not why I laugh,” the voice whispered. “I laughed at my own impatience. I laugh because I know you are becoming. It’s just that some becomings seem bigger than others and I want you to get to this one. Even after all the eons, I still get impatient for those few ONES to come and test themselves against me, to become that which lives in the most hidden and secret parts of the their self’s.”
“You make it seem as though this becoming is a great undertaking. Like a surgery from which I will wake missing a part of myself.”
“No, you will not be missing parts of yourself. On the contrary, you will be on the road to completion, to being whole. Parts of the self will be added and the only parts that will be lost are those that never needed to be there to begin with. Now go! “, bellowed the voice. “I am tired by these years and need to rest.”
The Man walked off, thinking about the voice. And as the days progressed the man forgot some of what the voice said for HE was engrossed in his daily goings on. And one day, as he was about to sit down to eat his lunch on the pier a breeze danced across his neck, reached up to tickle his ear and blew across his forehead. His hand instinctively reached up to wipe the tickle of the wind from his skin when he heard the voice say,
“I am still waiting. Will you come today? Maybe, just maybe it will be today.”
by: annie passarello
“I know”, said the man, “but I’m busy all the time. I have to do this first. I’m still becoming.”
“Oh”, said the voice. “What are you becoming?”
“Why, myself”, said the man.
“What do you mean? Are you not already your self?”
“No, I’m not. Or at least I don’t think I’m done becoming myself yet.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
“Nothing, I’m not waiting, I’m in the process of becoming. That’s why you are still waiting!”
“Your wrong”, said the voice. “The reason I’m still waiting is because you are afraid of becoming.
“Afraid of becoming? I’m not afraid of becoming.”
“Then become. Become right now. This second. I want to see you become.”
“It doesn’t work that why”, the man replied with edge in his voice. He was feeling exasperated with the voice. What did the voice know anyway? What did the voice ever become? The voice was just a voice. The voice didn’t have obligations, responsibilities, people depending on him.
“Yes I did and I do”, the voice strongly interjected.
“How did you do that?” wondered the man.
“The same way I know you are the one to change me through changing yourself,” the voice calmly replied. “I know what it is to become. I have been becoming for thousands of years. Do you think you stop becoming? That one day you get to the end of becoming and there is a ceremony or something and a stamp of approval that reads, “The Man has now become. He is ready to begin living.”
“No” sulked the man.
“Everyday is a becoming. Every day I have changed and became anew. I am weathered and am built up, I am conquered and I am the conqueror, I am dreams, hope and despair in equal parts with joy, happiness and achievement. I am east and west, north and south, I am all the elements of this life and all the elements of lives past. Everyday, I become as everyday you become. For everyday the process begins again and every day you are shaped by the days past. The process is happening whether or not you are aware of it. And this is why I wait for you. For your becoming is tied to my own. You are destined to change me as I will change you. You will challenge, conquer, fail, succeed, you will know joy and sorrow in equal amounts and I will push you as you will push me to become new and through this our daily reinvention will occur. We will never be the same day or spirit again. And nor will our becomings be the same again.”
“Who are you?” said the man, his heart filled with trepidation
“Why, I am rock”, chuckled the voice. “I am the rock that has been waiting for you to come. I have endured the centuries and men have tested themselves against the time of me. Some have succeeded and some have failed but all have become. Out here, a knowing is revealed within each of us, some can’t deal with the knowing, some can. I think you CAN. So I wait. I stand here strong looking the sun, the wind, the moon, the sky, the lark, and all life in the eye. I bear each day and give each day. And today, I again wait for you to come. To come and change you, me, and all that surrounds us.”
“I will come,” said the Man. “Just not yet.”
The sound of the Voice laughing infuriates the man. “Why are you laughing?” screamed the man. “I know I am becoming. I am becoming this very day. I don’t have to beat myself against you to become. I will get there but I have to do this first.”
“That’s not why I laugh,” the voice whispered. “I laughed at my own impatience. I laugh because I know you are becoming. It’s just that some becomings seem bigger than others and I want you to get to this one. Even after all the eons, I still get impatient for those few ONES to come and test themselves against me, to become that which lives in the most hidden and secret parts of the their self’s.”
“You make it seem as though this becoming is a great undertaking. Like a surgery from which I will wake missing a part of myself.”
“No, you will not be missing parts of yourself. On the contrary, you will be on the road to completion, to being whole. Parts of the self will be added and the only parts that will be lost are those that never needed to be there to begin with. Now go! “, bellowed the voice. “I am tired by these years and need to rest.”
The Man walked off, thinking about the voice. And as the days progressed the man forgot some of what the voice said for HE was engrossed in his daily goings on. And one day, as he was about to sit down to eat his lunch on the pier a breeze danced across his neck, reached up to tickle his ear and blew across his forehead. His hand instinctively reached up to wipe the tickle of the wind from his skin when he heard the voice say,
“I am still waiting. Will you come today? Maybe, just maybe it will be today.”
by: annie passarello
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