paralized for life

Is a focus on the cold realities of life a less desirable state of existence than one focused on idealism and exuberance? For a life based fully on idealism will always be diced finely by the sharp knife of reality in the long run. But a life centered only on cold realities is like focusing on the shadow of a tree with such concentration as to forget that there was such a thing as the tree itself.

If neither of these extremes are desirable then what dose of each is a healthy mix so as to maximize life? Perhaps one should aspire to a 50/50 ratio, keeping idealism as a goal/social lifestyle while tending to necessary matters which reality requires. This would be in accordance with the saying "head in the clouds, feet on the ground", but is that even possible? Wouldn’t the feet walk off and leave the head in the clouds dismembering the body and leading to a medieval style torturous death?

To aspire to a 50/50 ratio is to aspire to discontent, restlessness, and unhappiness. It would be to declare war on yourself because one side of you would always be criticizing the other. For example, if you were feeling idealistic, you may go to a coffee shop, protest, or poetry slam; but you won’t be able to enjoy it because the “feet on the ground” side of you would be telling you to do something with a more practical ROI (return on investment) with your time. And the converse is true; while you are engaging in high ROI activities, the idealistic side would atrophy and groan louder each day with discontent.

So if the two cannot coexist equally, then perhaps an unequal ratio like 60/40 or 70/30 would suffice. This gives the head or feet veto power over the lesser, inferior counterpart. But, because life is a “choose your own adventure” book and the time traveler (you) are constantly at the center of an infinite intersection of crossroads (which in turn have an infinite number or crossroads branching off them), you cannot know the degree to which this decision—the head vs. feet decision—will impact your life.

It’s common for this fact to have a paralyzing affect on us time travelers. Its simple math: infinite unknown consequences of decisions + utter finality of decisions made (i.e. when you’re 40 you can’t change your mind about what you did when you were 20) = paralyzing.

I mean, how can one be expected to make informed decisions when there is no: 1) information about what will happen as a result of your actions, and 2) ability to change your mind without paying the consequences of changing your mind. No, all we have to go on is pure conjecture. But many times (and this is the worst of it) people find that the smallest, most insignificant seeming decisions of their lives have impacted their lives the most! MOST! How am I supposed to make decisions under these conditions! My decision to take out the trash seems fairly insignificant…BUT WHAT IF ITS NOT!?

How can I do anything ever again? But then maybe not doing anything ever again is exactly the kind of inconsequential seeming decision that means something crazy will happen in the future! But then if I don’t do something that I could have done, what great opportunity could I be missing? Or maybe that’s it, maybe I should stop doing significant things and focus on seemingly inconsequential activities because those are always the ones that people talk about as having the biggest impact!

I told you it was paralyzing.

So what conclusions can we draw? Maybe the lesson here is that a time traveler should buy himself a wheelchair because at this rate, I’m thinking I’ll be paralyzed for life.

personal brand management

Everyone manages their personal "brand" to a certain degree--I will not disagree with that in the least. Personal brand management is the reason why kids don't want to be kissed by their mother in front of the class, why people don't show up at work naked, and even why people keep secrets from others--people avoid being seen negatively in the minds of their peers. Fine.

But when a business leader compares me to a retail store brand? When I am supposed to conform my external behavior specifically with the intent of portraying myself as a person I am not? Really? I have been told from leadership to follow these steps in managing my "brand":

1) I need to think about what words pop into other peoples heads when they think about me,

2) evaluate those words and ask myself, "do these words push me in the direction I want to go? What makes these people say these words?"

3) in the case that there are unwanted "brand associations" I need to readjust my "marketing strategy" in order to leave positive associations with those I come in contact with in the future. Areas of consideration include: how I dress, what I talk about, first impressions, types of words I use, the food I eat, the car I drive, the colors I wear (did you know that wearing blue buys you more subconscious credibility?), and about one thousand other completely irrelevant and shallow "perception management" items.

To my shock, the emphasis was overwhelmingly centered on displaying the external behaviors of an ideal business person instead of developing the substance of a person which is the catalyst for behavior. If there must be such a crude contrivication as a personal brand, then it can be nothing less than a consequence of who you are, and who you are should never be a consequence of your desired brand.

After learning about the importance of personal brand management, I became conscious of the reason behind the stereotype of the shallow and insincere business person. You know the person; the one with the extended beauty pageant smile and the strong hand shake who touts constantly his own accomplishments, who's eyes dart about the room searching for more important people to talk to even while in conversation with you, who takes your business card and sizes up your worth by your title and connections.

Perhaps that stereotypical business person is not to blame for such conduct as much as those leaders who propagate and disseminate the most certainly corrupt idea that ungenuine conduct is a necessary requisite to success. And if I am wrong, if this most perverse idea proves to be true and is ingrained in all business culture, then my ideas of standard business culture will be exposed as high minded idealism and I will not stand long in the presence of a newly perverse environment.

But to that business person who is genuine, who does not talk insincerely and determines of equal value both the person of high title and the person of meager status, he is not necessarily the business person who will go farthest and achieve the most in the short run. However, people are not easily deluded, even the best of social actors with the best personal brand and strong first impression will, in the long run, inevitably be exposed. And when the very carefully cultivated personal brand can no longer sustain the superficially yoked marriage with the true person, there will be a divorcing of the two and only the person, not the brand, shall remain.

But there are more tragedies that befall the ungenuine business person than certain eventual exposure. From close-hand experience I have seen the performances of these people and the act devours their souls, causing depression, isolation, and intense fear--fear that perhaps someone might find out and expose their duplicity. In this way the ungenuine may reap an increased degree of short term success but at a cost certainly more significant than I would care to bear.

Corporate Ladies

Never was there so detestable a group of ladies as those who have spent their lives in a florescent office. Are you in an office with corporate ladies? No, I'm not talking about corporate hotties (the girls who walk around in high-heels, wear over sized glasses, and tend to look down at you with a look which simultaneously expresses disdain and self-righteousness...another topic for another day). But back to the original question: how do you know when the ladies in your office have achieved the status of Corporate Lady? Well, from my extensive office scouting experience I have been able to identify 4 tell-tale features by which one can effectively identify such Ladies in his office.

Does the suspected Corporate Lady in question manifest the following symptoms? Does she:

1) Incessantly cackle every 5 minutes in pitches which, in the middle ages surely would have been reason enough to determine her combustibility for fear that she may be a witch?

2) Begin every morning, Monday-Friday, speaking in overwhelming decibels about the latest great world calamity? Which (for Corporate Ladies at least) is always somehow traffic related? You'll be able to identify this symptom if, after listening to her rants, you would be forgiven to think that oil spills and wars were now surpassed in importance by new more important national crisis...the beamer.

3) Answer the phone the same exact way, every single time, in a sheer, high pitched, squirrely, and yes, witchy way? This happens multiple times per hour and they always say the same exact thing. I dream about her cell phones ring tone and sometimes find myself whistling it...

4) Have a general disdain for life? Corporate Ladies hate their lives...lets face it, if I was one of them I would too. Their skin is not bronzed by the gold of the sun, rather it sags and flabs in the rays of florescent lighting. Their hair does not lift and blow behind them in the salty air of the ocean or the dry air of the mountains, rather it hangs ratty and dull in an insulated artificial environment. They do not experience the world or have their mind expanded by education, rather, they repeat the same task over and over. And they have been doing this for 20 or 30 years! So when you make conversation with them at the water cooler what do they say? "Well, another day eh?" to which I respond, "yah, but at least its Wednesday so you're half way there", "yah, I could really use the weekend right about now though". Boo! No wonder you cackle so much, what a horrible life!

Life Anew, life anew,

Dear friend. If you are reading this, you are most strange. Since most of my friends have passed the blogging stage, I figured that I had also. But I ask you, what is the use of having a blog if it is no longer in use?! NONE! Furthermore, since it has been an astonishing 1.5 years (an all time record) since my last update, I figured that I would update my zillions of adoring fans. But since the "adoring fans" are mostly the invisible people that I hear in my head, consider this an expression of my typically millennial fascination with narcissism.

How is this life anew you may ask? In but days I will embark on a journey so great and mysterious that I myself haven't a clue how it will affect me...its much like a frozen burrito must feel in that moment between when it is placed in the microwave and when it is turned on. It is a moment wrought with both anxiety and excitement, peace and torment. Especially because my "microwave" happens to be affecting THE REST OF MY LIFE VIA THE PURSUIT OF A CAREER...not that its a big deal or anything. And yes, many of you will submit that I am a sell out to "the man" sacrificing my free and individual self to the whim of some pompous elderly snob bent on making my previously free will bend to his purposes and will. Although I find it ironic that those who accuse me the most of being a sell out are extremely discontent in their jobs or unemployed.

Whatever, this is America, I can do what I want.

Panama

Off to another great adventure in the jungles of Southern Panama. To the Darien, to the tribes, and beyond.

Lest we live no life at all

It is times like this where superhero powers would serve not only as an extra accessory on the super belt--they would serve as an ultimate means of escape. These nights spent gazing out the giant windows of a down town coffee shop lead my wandering eyes up to the towering heights of skyscrapers--why cant I fly up to them? In a moment I imagine myself standing on the highest point of the tallest building in town--I am fearlessly leaning over the edge of the 80 story building with only one arm extended holding onto a lightning tower on my precarious perch. I look down on the streets below and feel compassion for my not-so-super-powerfully-gifted companions below. They, constrained by gravity and fear will never understand the true meaning of freedom and independence. Stuck in an oppressive system where they are required to barter precious hours of their lives for green pieces of paper that they believe have value. I wonder if its too harsh to say that they sadden me--its just that they resemble a busy ant colony or rat infestation--always going to and fro living out their dirty and hustled lives. They really have nothing to live for.

Looking down on the city from above I let go of my lightning rod and fall head first toward the street below; I close my eyes and grin before spreading my arms and feeling the g-forces enacting upon my body as I invert my decent and head straight for the starry skies above. The wind rushes through my hair and makes waves on my fluttering shirt and shorts--I continue my corkscrew ascent until the city is but a speck of light far below. Then I stop for a moment in the air. Where should I go? Ah yes, to the dessert. To Saudi Arabia, haven’t been there yet. I head straight for the ocean getting lower every minute until I am one foot above it--the wind from my body creates a concavity on the ocean water and kicks up spray all about.

Yes. Times like this when I stare out of a coffee shop window at night I regret being a mere human. The fact is, the closest I have come to having super powers was that one time I went off a ski jump and got 10 feet of air...and that one time I rappelled off a cliff with a plastic rope wrapped around my hand and didn't die--not a very impressive super-human resume. But wouldn't it be nice to know that there is something so completely different about you; some galactic secret known only by yourself that makes you stand out from the billions of people on this sphere. This just to have justifiable proof that you are unique, that there is no one like you. And those times that you feel like escaping to another planet, those times when your world gets too small and cumbersome, you just jump into the sky and go wherever you want. Independence, freedom, and cosmic uniqueness. No matter what people say, you are different, and that inner belief makes you strong.

So what do you do when you are proven completely average? There is no experience unique to you that have not been experienced by a large portion of society. Then what? Do you simply ingest your fate so fed to you by society, media, and friends? Do you lower your honor to the expectations of these sources of identity? We, being common humans seek camaraderie and acceptance from like-kind, so do we submit ourselves to the expectations of those whom expect, or are we internally motivated to be unique. It is important to remember that history easily forgets those conformant to societal expectations and cultural norms; while it immortalizes those persons who's relentless battle to change the world come to fruition as a result of their efforts--for better or worse. And so, as persons without super powers we must persist to live for a cause greater than ourselves, to be unique in this world of faces and numbers. I fear that if we do not we shall be swept away in the sea of history and die as one insignificant drop in an ocean of humanity. No, to live rightly, nigh die rightly, we must live for a cause worth dying for, a purpose bigger than ourselves.

Life must be lived for a cause worth dying for-lest we live no life at all.

An autobiography in short--for a class

I was born in the Northern Island of Japan, called Sapporo. I was raised and spent most of my life in Tokyo Japan. I do not consider myself a person of permanent residence, and so I have resolved to call wheresoever I currently reside my home. Thus, I now live in CO. I am a professional student with a part time job in the Japanese tour-guiding industry. To juxtapose my name with marriage may cause involuntary gastrointestinal reflexes--please refrain from this topic in my presence. I am in this course to learn and to be prepared for whatever lies ahead. It is also a requirement to graduate...but I suppose that lies ahead as well. I expect to work quite hard in 5 weeks, I expect to become proficient in at least the basic concepts dictating lawful conduct as it relates to business activities.

Trip to Missouri

Upon this great and momentous occasion that now is justifies this glorious piece of aesthetic writing, I shall commence with great pleasure this note. It was at a time approximately two-thirds through the dark, dreary semester that I embarked on a journey of the soul. Unlike previous journeys which avoided the residence of my passport as much as the valley girls which it produced, this time I embarked cross-country to the great and hilly state of Missouri. Much intrepidity marked my first impressions of this land for I had never before traveled within the limits of this land mass and I feared, as all men do, that perhaps this new experience would be one that is altogether undesirable and thus unworthy of being repeated. Yes, for me this is an expedition into the miry countryside of new experiences. Would it not be for my strong bias against the home of my passport I would have been less afeared as I was across the west of Europe and in many of my travels in the eastern portion of Asia. Notwithstanding all other trivial matters, I began the expedition an exact week before the advent of thanksgiving. Though the advent itself was a lighthearted time, ‘twas indeed a difficult to be of cheer given that my companion in travels, a man of relative stature whose bright blue eyes and pastel yellow hair rival Hitler’s archetypal erian man, had recently received news of his dearest friends looming death. So this evening we departed with heavy hearts, minds transcendent of mundane matters, and perhaps most notably a strong desire to begin our journey across two states into Missouri.

We embarked far later in the evening than was necessary at one hour to midnight. Although perhaps not a logical decision by any means, the late embarkation was an escape from normalcy; no longer were we tied to our regular abode—no, we were emancipated men escaping from the grips of university academia and embracing on a new adventure in the East. Conversations both meaningful and humorous held by the streaking lights of fellow oncoming night-goers characterized our late-night escape. Though by three-hours past midnight we both had a mind to get some sleep in order to better prepare for the next day’s travels. Seeing as we were people of meager funds and in desperate need thereof, we agreed on pulling off on a gravel road and sleeping under the stars. Though I have consistently been informed from a myriad of sources on Kansas’ lack of anything good and holy in its baron plains, this is where I first found an inconsistency; for the stars in Kansas that night were beyond what I had seen before. From one flat horizon to the next, the stars graced their flickering colors in such a way as to create a bubble of illumination that spanned horizontally of our position and rose clear up to the expanses of heaven above. Laying on one’s back and looking directly skyward, one could easily be forgiven for thinking that he was somehow transported into heaven itself. This and a brisk Northerly wind combined to create a beautiful and mystical ambiance under which to make our stead.

The following day began with a jolt as me and my fellow traveler were woken up to the sound of a lone vehicle speeding its way past our exposed abode. Each crunch of gravel under its tires was distinctly accounted for as the oncoming vehicle got closer and louder until the noise reached its climax just a few feet from our heads. We rose that morning cursing the early schedule of farmers but also to amazement at the flatness of the area upon which we stood. As a carpet, the green land rolled out in all directions around us speckled only by sparse trees and occasional dots of cattle clear until the union of earth and sky at the horizon. We resumed our journey across the green plains after a swig of water from our jug and the hesitant consumption of soggy, left over sandwiches—though we did not set out with high standards; we were in Kansas after all. Fortunately, Kansas did not cease to surprise us past that first night.

Kansas can mostly be described as a desolate wasteland—though not desolate in vegetation per say, but rather in sight worthy aspects; lest you consider cattle and endless fields a subject of interest. Note that I said Kansas consisted mostly of wasteland; this implies that it was not all wasteland and thus must contain some elements of interest or variety. Me and my companion Daniel discovered both of these anomalous points of interest in Kansas; another misconception dashed—that Kansas is void of all things interesting and worthwhile. In a dazed muse created by a combination of the endless droning of the engine and the constant blare of high pitched rap tunes, I spotted something unusual on the flat planes of Kansas—something not flat. This of course contradicted all previous reports of Kansas and beckoned to be explored in a more conclusive manner—Daniel agreed wholeheartedly and bolstered the idea by stating that he too had been contemplating a similar investigation. So in the middle of brown fields under a deep blue sky we exited the highway to discover the story behind this non-flat phenomenon. The terrain being as it was, we had not problem navigating to the structure, which, as we drew nearer began to take the shape of a five story high European-style cathedral. Upon closer inspection we saw that the cathedral, fashioned in true European style, composed of flying buttresses, ornate stain-glass windows, and even a bell tower and steeple. In Kansas this five-story behemoth had no contextual justification in the least. Perhaps in Europe among ancient brick-paved streets, hairy women, the German language, and a history of Catholicism, this cathedral would have been common place, but in Kansas? Not to mention that this large new-looking cathedral graced an all but abandoned, tumble-weed plagued Kansas town with a sanctuary that could accommodate triple the town’s inhabitance. So there we stood in front of the cathedral doors at the edge of an abandoned town, tumble-weed and brown leaves made eddies around our ankles in the desolate wind as we stretched our necks back looking up to the bell tower. As expected the doors were open and the true detail of the building was again seen on the innards of it what with the usual icons of this saint this and that, Mary and the baby Jesus, the alter, the art, the confession boxes; nothing too unusual—save for its location and size. After a complete and thorough inspection of the sanctuary and its graveyard (which was very nondescript and disappointingly offered no epitaphs and trite information of the bereaved) Daniel and I decided it was high time to continue our journey through this boring, yet occasionally curious state.

Trials in a semi-silent room.

I am sitting in a room with no other sound in it but that of a frustrated middle aged man talking on his cell phone. Every word he says bounces around in the solitary silence of this study area. as a rough estimate i would say that 90% of everything he is talking about is completely self centric, and the other 10% is all his Californian valley girl-isims including "oh, my gosh" and "are you serious?" etc. all pronounced with a slight lisp. But you have to understand that this is not a normal "are you serious?" its the kind that you hear lame-shopping mall chicks saying when they discover that their favorite body works store just ran out of their favorite body butter. If I were facing this man I am convinced that I would have seen little scandalized hand gestures and rolling eyes. For the sake of all that is good in this world, you are a middle aged balding man! Please immediately desist your self-centered conversation or take it to the ladies room or where ever it is that you use facilities! To make it worse, he has been whining for the last 1.5 hours and venting the deepest laments of his shallow heart in a completely audible decibel level in this silent study area! In the midst of studies I cannot help but feel sorry for this deranged soul. After the first hour I began to doubt if there was anyone in the world who would actually put up with this kind of one sided phone conversation; there were no silent spaces in which another party could interject with soothing anecdotes of happiness and joy through trials.

Trials in a semi-silent room.

大統領

This will be my second birthday in a row spent in the Japan Alps. Really nothing to complain about, in fact, its great. Today I had a chocolate cake covered in choco-peanuts (the best thing about Japan, in my oppinion). It read "Happy Birthday 大統領"　(president, thats what they call me)Not only that, but I had a Japanese style yakiniku barbeque (way better than American burgers and crap) and I was surrounded by sweet people. Tomorrow (which is my bearthday) I will be heading up into the Alps on a 3-day backpacking trip with the other staff at Northstar. We're going to eat Japanese noodles, scout some climbing spots, do some inniciative games, sleep in tents, I'll get some more experience guiding, and everyone will go home happy...unless someone dies.

Since last I bloged many things have happened: my brother Ryan got married at Takayama in Sendai (best place ever) I dont have any pics but my sister does. You can check her thing out at roberry.blogspot.com. It was pretty much the best wedding ever. A lot of work, but a lot of fun. And seeing the fam again is a rare treat. Why don't we live closer together anyways? I mean really; Colorado, Washington, California, Japan, and Oregon---not exacty right next door to eachother. But I guess thats how the cookie crumbled.

In other news, it looks like I'll be climbing Fuji a few times this summer, which will be great. All together I think this summers going to be one of the best.

outa here suckers!

Alas my friends, the time is nigh for another “I’m leaving the country” post. The past six months have been spent living in America. Six months is a new record for time spent living in America since I was 13, and I have to say, the experience was…average. In retrospect there was much skiing, much working, much acquisition of worldly outdoorsy goods, surprisingly little time spent being a student (Community College seems to have made a whole new definition for the term “full time student”), a fair amount of time spent on familial engagements, and little time spent doing things with any manner of people that could be called “friends”. Unfortunate as it was, forgoing friendships and all things meaningful that I had developed in my life in BC was the only way to have direction in my life. You see, I have this thing; its like when your pants are on fire and your underpants are filled with red ants and lobsters—its like that. Only all the time. The burning drives me forward constantly so in reflexive action to the fire, red ants, and lobsters I run franticly forward in a randomized and erratic pattern. But in the process I seem to shake off many dear friends. And it saddens my heart greatly to shake off more again. There are three things that humans were never meant to experience: death, disease, and farewells. Unfortunately all are an inevitable part of our futile existences here on planet “Global Warming Will Kill Us All”.

Anyways, I’m off to Japan tomorrow (Thursday, June 14th) so I wish you all many babies and flowery cakes. I will be in Japan working as a guide in the Northern Japan Alps and Mount Fuji with Northstar Outdoor Adventures again. Should be a pretty good time. I’ll be in J-town until late August sometime.

On a lighter note I came up with an idea that seems to support reincarnation. Here’s the idea:
1. If a person hits his head, his memory can be lost or altered forever. He might not remember his name, how to do simple math, or even how to speak. He will not remember who he is married to, who his family is, nothing. He will have to relearn everything.

2. If a person hits his head, his personality can be altered forever. His wife will claim that she doesn’t know him any more, he will be more aggressive or less ambitious, the chemicals in his brain will have changed somehow so that the person you formerly knew as John is now gone and replaced by this new person.

Conclusion:
The soul has no memory or personality in and of itself. If memory can be altered with relative ease by inflicting damage on the physical brain, who would disagree that brain is the only part of a human that retains memory? And when that memory retainer is altered or ceases , there is nothing to fill in. Similarly, if personality can be altered simply with a hammer, does this mean that the death of the brain is the true end of a humans personality? In this argument one could conclude that the soul retains neither memory nor personality; it is simply that which is necessary to provide life, and that which leaves when the body ceases functioning. So if the soul leaves at the time of death (as seems obvious that it does) then where does this life-giving, but impersonal force go? Would it not seek out another creation to give life to? Hence, reincarnation.

Seems to make sense eh? It almost makes too much sense. I haven’t been able to find a counter argument yet. Let me know what you think though, I don’t like that philosophy at all and I want to be rid of it.

library skylight

Sitting below a large opaque skylight in a library I was typing at a computer tending to my extremely dull homework. The skylight that spanned most the way across the library ceiling suddenly got dark and as though an angel accidentally stabbed his sward into the thin canvass of the heavens, the reservoirs from above gave way—each drop of which could easily be accounted for as I heard the deafening droplets assail the foggy skylight. The sound commanded my attention and I looked up. And I thought of you suddenly, are you in the rain? Where had you gone? People, when they go away leave at least some indication of where they are going, but you have departed in silence; silence that speaks in the rain and now deafens me. Do you rise with the sun in the east or glide on the waves of the air? Teach me, teach me how to live my life! A cold draft wrapped itself around my exposed ankles, had that draft always been there? I couldn’t remember. With as much might as with it first began, the deafening barrage of rain stopped, the skylight lit up once more, and I looked around the library expecting something to be different from two minutes ago. But everyone was busy with their computers focusing on some mundane assignment. No, nothing had changed. Nothing perhaps except for me.

paradoxical

There are those people I occasionally meet who are paradoxical to me. We all know that horrible experiences screw people up; parent dies as a kid, abuse of some form or another, overdose of some form or another, and BANG you’re one messed up kid. Its typical for these people to live in gutters or just have a lot a baggage that they carry around. This is normal. But have you met those who have had horrible experiences (horrible enough to warrant a minimum of 10 years of gutter living) and yet somehow seem to over come? These are the paradox-gems. I have met only two such paradoxes (the first one I assumed was an anomaly, but the second time around can be no coincidence) who live with such joy that it literally blows me away. I stand and watch them astounded at their interactions, inspired by their love for people, dumfounded by their wisdom, amazed at their selflessness, and I am left mouth agape seeing these people in light of their past. What great hurtles were overcome and what great wounds healed for this person to stand in front of me now? Confounding. These incite my greatest curiosity and my most profound admiration.

Tell me, what do you know that I don't, what power do you posses, what hidden truths discovered? How do you smile with that glimmer in your eyes and wide genuine smile. Paradox, what has experience taught that you to live so richly.

Or could it be that deepest suffering is the cornerstone of truest life.

open hand

I went out to the woods to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartanlike as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness out of it and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience...
- Henry David Thoreau

To experience life, it must be lived with an open hand. There is no sense in holding onto something tightly when it will be taken anyways. Instead we must live here, we must live today free of fear that limits our potential, free of burdens of yesterday. We must live life with an open hand for that way the adventure is greater and life the sweeter. Time should not be wasted holding onto that which is unholdible or protecting that which is to be taken at any time-catching the breeze is impossible. Haste, haste life and never forget its urgency and never become complacent. For now is all we have.

Cherish yesterday, dream tomorrow, live today.

It is not a long life I ask, but a full one.

e-mail to a friend

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: Brent Potter
Date: Wed, 4 Apr 2007 00:09:25 -0700
Subject: My friend
To: Kim Manchip pinto_girl@hotmail.com

My dear friend. You are sorely missed.

You have been an inspiration, a light, and an example. I have stuck in my mind that game we all played in Leavenworth when we stood across from each other and looked in each others eyes in uncomfortably close proximity--conveyor belt style. I remember your eyes clearly. I recall a distinct memory of the light in them, of deepness, of wisdom acquired by experience. It was out of admiration that I made fun of you for washing old people's naked bodies--and to enjoy it! What humility, what desire to bring hope to hopeless elderly! And that is what I admire most about your life--no matter what you did, you focused on others almost to the point of fault. I knew with 100% certainty that no matter what kind of situation I got myself into, no matter how far down I fell, no matter what I did, you would help. And you did many times; you continue to through your memory. You would notice what people like me did not see. Its like that one time at Wendy’s remember? On our way back from some trip. We were hungry, smelly, and I was broke. You "lent" me money (though I did not ask and was in fact outside at the time) and you refused to accept repayment later. It was the same with using your car, and same with lending out equipment in the back country. It was the same with everything you had--you would give it out freely for anyone to use. I wont forget our experiences, swing dancing on the beach, cooking buddy's on trips (we made wicked food...but always too much), skiing, you making fun of my tight yellow goretex pants (you even made fun of them in your last email to me!), hot tub parties, Italian pasta at your house (again, enough to feed a small
country...and delicious), Humpy your miniature humping dog (strangely attracted to my and James' leg), your excellent songs (you never did give yourself enough credit for how good they really were), we were even on the same group for hell night I remember when we were both freezing and traumatized, huddling under the one sleeping bag after the medical drill; we told any story at all to get our minds off the cold.

You were there from my very first trip in OL through to the GOSE. And I'm there by you in the pictures still--frozen in time with blissful smiles live with cheery expressions. My favourite pics are the ones where we’re jumping off the cornice and the dancing on the beach at the Olympic Peninsula. Damn it Kim, you had the most beautiful smile that would shine with love on all people you would talk to; but not only a smile, a genuine desire to get to know, to genuinely understand and appreciate those you would come in contact with--with no discrimination. I am left perplexed, vexed, astounded at how it could be that you, Kim, so beautiful by all standards, someone who the world desperately needs should be taken in an avalanche whilst the rest of us commoners live on to live out mediocre lives. Goddamn it Kim! You were going to get married to James, have a family in BC; I was going to have a family god knows where, and our kids were going to play together as we hung out drinking coffee and pretending to be adults. My wife would talk to you about how stupid I was, and you would talk to her about how stupid James was. How can it be that we should be allowed to live and you are not? Perhaps heaven itself could not wait long enough for your scheduled arrival.

I remember one of the quotes you told me, "I am only one tree in a forest, yet I am still one tree". People are always saying that they can’t do anything to change the world, they don’t have the resources, the don’t know the right people, dont have enough money--BUT I am still one tree. Because I am a person--that is enough to make a difference. Another thing you would quote all the time, "Ask not what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive... then go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive." I've wondered Kim. I’ve wondered about why you were snowboarding up there that day, and how everything would be different if you had only taken the second helicopter and not the first. I've been wondering about the hazards of anything outdoor related and what good can come out of it. I've been thinking that maybe all these risks we take pursuing vain activities in the outdoors aren’t worth it when there’s so much wrong with the world. But you were doing what that quote said, you were doing what made you come alive and by doing so you made the world around you come alive. That was the experience for me, and no doubt those up there skiing with you. For one tree in a forest Kim, I don’t think you could have been done better.

Tears cannot express how much it saddens me to send this email knowing that it will go to your inbox never to be read. Instead it will eventually be deleted by your inactive account; its storage space to be recycled for a new hotmail subscriber. You've no idea how much I regret never sharing my admiration of you while you were still with us...though I am not yet fully convinced that you are not. You lived for others and never grave yourself enough credit for all you did. I will remember you Kim, your smile, our trips, your dog, the songs, the quotes. I strive one day to talk to people as you did and to genuinely love them as selflessly as you did.

My dear friend, you are sorely missed.
I anxiously await our next meeting, days or decades from now. I await the day when we will sit down for a cup of coffee and talk about the good old days while pretending to be adults.
How I wish you'd reply.
Your friend forever,
Brent

You can read about what happened to Kim here.

a funny joke

A string of simple words is enough to completely expose goals as irrelevant and disarm ambitions--it is enough to expose the dream of modern society as the most dangerous joke ever to be entertained. And it is a joke.

We spend our lives yearning for more when there is happiness to be found in so little. We spend our lives clobbering over others attempting to prove ourselves in the social hierarchy; we belittle, we compete, and we go to any deceptive or honest means to obtain coveted superiority above another human. This is the American Dream. Are we content with the knowledge that there is so much suffering and that we, the fortunate few, the "brave" individuals we would all humor ourselves to be, spend our days flying off ski jumps, sitting in class rooms, or working in a cubicle?

When I was in elementary school I was taught about the horrible, horrible slave trade of the 1800's. I learned about the underground railway, people who risked everything to smuggle fugitive slaves to their freedom. When I heard the story I knew that had I lived in those days, I would have been part of the underground railway. I would have stood up for what I believed was right and put everything on the line to prove it. What my teachers forgot to tell me was that slavery is still happening, and that even bigger world issues exist. Even so, we turn a def ear to it in order to blissfully live out our lives. We dream of a future with a white house on a green filed, our kids running around chasing ponies, and two new silver cars in the driveway; one automatic transmission Toyota for the wife, and a standard Civic for the husband. The only sound to be heard during the day is that of lazy bumblebees flying around your nicely arranged garden and the laughter of kids playing on the trampoline next door; the sound of injustice so completely muted by distance.

But how can this be? In elementary school I would have called that person a coward, but he is not considered a coward who has his family’s best interest in mind. But is there any other word for the person who sees world issues and decides that it is too complicated to get involved with, or too dangerous? Who remembers those who stood by and watched the slave trade unfold in the 1800's? What teacher talks about the valiant father who decided to run away to the countryside and start a family instead of taking a stand for or against the slave trade? These people are not in textbooks, they are not remembered. They are forgotten not for what they did, but for what they didn't do. It is true that the opposite of love is not hate, it is apathy.

It makes me wonder what good is the person who risks greatly climbing mountains when all that is to be gained is ego, what lasting influence will a brave father have if he runs away from real world issues? Time and again, average North Americans chose apathy if it means that they can continue pursuing their version of the illusive American Dream.

If injustice is a threat, I wonder what kind of life-style we are trying to justify.

thats my sister!

who is currently the most famous person in the WHOLE WORLD!!...or at least IN SALEM!!
Which, I am pleased to announce, means that I too am famous by association. I will be glad to give out my autograph but I only sign bodies...to save on paper of course. Its the green way of giving your autograph.

today

Today
A gray and mournful day
The kind of which on funerals lay
This misty sheet of moisture fall
Down on gray and mournful all
Who, clothed in black and boring cloak
Are sullen, sad, and sunken folk.

Mortuary's dance and frolic whence
The sun is blocked and rain commence
For now does business swell and bloom
When the living sway and swoon
Down to hell if not first saved
By the dirt floor of a grave.

Be spared this fate ye living few,
Act with haste upon this coup
When arrows fall from high heaven,
When our enemy fastly beckon,
Deploy, deploy our sole defensive
Umbrellas bounce and spring to action.

Unyielding black umbrella's attempt
To hold the heavn'ly armament
But yet it is to no avail,
The troops begin to fail and fail.

Bodies limp and faces sleek
Gnarled limbs wet and bleak,
Die in the onslaught ever falling
Fast in sheets of dampness galling,
Out flanked, out numbered, umbrellas swirling
For their children and wives yearning,
The troops by the thousands succumb.

But what did that great warrior state,
If beat them not, then join them late,
And so we must if to survive
To drop all grievances aside
And ask our wet foe to befriend
Those who for years paved o'er their land
And on bended knee to plea
A thousand years of clemency
On one condition tis employed
If all umbrellas be destroyed.

giddy cavers

And you people thought I was technologically impaired! Ha! Not only have I proven you wrong by posting a picture but also a movie! So I never want to hear about it again.


Surprisingly, claustrophobia was about the last thing on anyone’s mind—like the thing everyone knows is there but no one pays attention to…like babies. Caving is probably the most adventurous activity a normal Joe could pursue—the last frontier on earth that doesn’t require an exorbitant budget of those who desire to explore. Add in the beauty of underground geology, technical rope skills, and a good time with a few nutty cavers, and you’ve got yourself the vacation of a life time.

In comparison to their egotistical, global-summit-dominion motivated mountaineering counterparts; cavers seem to hold a strong camaraderie between each other. While mountaineers would rather boast about how many summits they’ve sacked in the Himalayas, cavers would be more likely to make fun of your mother over a pint. Maybe the main difference is that mountaineers climb mountains to feed their insatiable ego and cavers cave to discover the cave—not to prove something. I like that.

Tree: a study of gravities influence in its natural environment

Today I had a gravitational encounter with an inconveniently located tree. The star of the act of course was gravity whose role was supported by an innocent skier caught in the grips of its accelerating power. The force of gravities acceleration combined with a nitwit skier's miscalculated turn-to-tree radius stigmatizations led to a rather spectacular collision with a tree. Within milliseconds the skier (me) was engulfed in a spiraling tornado of snow, skis, poles, tree limbs, and flailing body parts. The powder clouds were high enough to touch the hallowed heavens above. When the powder settled there was our hero (me), the innocent skier, lying prostrate on the snow with one still attached ski caught in branches of two different trees, and a ski pole bent at a 90 degree angle. Slightly ominously, a well meaning snow boarder comments on the "wicked spill" and asks if he can be of assistance, but given the red horns that stuck out of the good Samaritans helmet, I decide to graciously decline the generous offer. Figuring it was time for a rest, I limp into the lodge to make my legendary miracle healing concoction (or LMHC for short); split pea soup, Doritos’s, and a pint’a beer (all consumed separately of course). The effect miracle concoction, hastened by dehydration, quickly restores my sense of invincibility and I hit the slopes once more…but not for long before the pain masking properties of the LMHC fade and I feel as though I am 40 years old—on the brink of death.

In other news, I am headed out for New Mexico…you know its going to be good because its like Mexico only better because its new. I’ll be there for a week long caving trip. While caves may not the best place to get a tan, apparently they are the best place to get stuck and die. So I’ll do my best to accomplish one of the two things listed above. Which one could it be? You’ll find out if I never post again.

…A slightly ominous ending, but an ending no less