What The Mountains Say

Panoramic progression up Pike's Peak

These last two summers have seen a new activity added to my list of hobbies: that of hiking Colorado's various 14'ers (that is, mountains that rise higher than 14,000 feet in elevation). Now, while I don't pretend to be Mr. Mountain Man or Mr. Outdoors by any stretch of the imagination, I have greatly enjoyed getting to hike some of the high points of the Rockies. In 2013, I began with my first, Mt. Yale, and have continued on with Pike's Peak and Humboldt Peak this year. I have certainly enjoyed the experiences overall while managing to retain a certain antagonism toward a few aspects of the hikes themselves: basically, there's usually an ongoing conversation in my head during my ascent as to whether or not I want to quit before I reach the summit, whether or not this will definitely be the last time I do something like this, or just how stupid and/or terrible and/or out of shape I feel gasping for breath on a path 12,000 feet above sea level (as Buhl once said, "Mountains have a way of dealing with overconfidence.")

There is, however, a certain spiritual quickening to the experience of climbing mountains as well as a few striking metaphors I've noticed with regards to living a full life and chasing after one's dreams. I'd like to share a few of these with you today. Ansel Adams said, "No matter how sophisticated you may be, a large granite mountain cannot be denied – it speaks in silence to the very core of your being." I think I've found this to be true. I can't help but see certain undeniable aspects of life reflected in the experience of climbing a high peak, and I would encourage everybody out there to do it at least once. There really is nothing like it.

Adventures In iTunes: R&B Groovin'

Groove.

That's the name of the game today.

The songs on today's playlist are some of my favorite examples of what I consider to be true rhythm & blues music - music driven by that indomitable groove and all of the things that comprise it: a mountainous serving of feel, melody + harmony, dynamics, and soul, soul, soul.

So, whether it's dancin' slow or driving with the top down, be sure to check out the tunes on this list for some dynamite accompaniment. Chuck the computer beats (mostly), the auto-tune, and anything that takes away from the vibe, brothers & sisters.

Let's get groovy.

Note Pad: Necessary Struggle

There is nothing worth having that is easy to acquire. 

There is no great accomplishment without resistance.

There is no victory without struggle.

These are things to which all of us pay lip service, but how many act as if they are really true?

For the artist, the key to identity, meaning, & soulfulness in art is found in the journey along difficult, challenging, soul-shaping roads. Pressure, obstacle, and obstruction are par for the course. The treasures discovered along the hard road cannot be happened upon any other way.

Too many these days expect the benefits and results accrued by successful artists without the willingness to venture down the uncomfortable and treacherous paths necessary to acquire them. Great art is more than than the stuff of technical ability and raw skill - it is the outpouring of the soul and the pursuit of beauty & truth.

The hard reality is that security & comfort tend to impede artistic growth rather than enable it. The desire to be insulated from uncertainty and protected from risk are the very things that will keep from you confidence, peace, and a sense of identity within your art. Worse, security is an illusion: struggle has a way of finding even the most protected individuals. 

The real question is not whether or not we will struggle during the pursuit of our dreams, but whether we will embrace the difficult things in light of what they will bring forth in our lives. Like the athlete in the gym or the musician in the practice room, the person who would see their dreams accomplished and their goals achieved must be willing to embrace difficulty, discomfort, and sacrifice. 


So, for everyone out there struggling today... this one's for you:

The Words Unspoken

In the wake of Robin Williams' death yesterday, my brother posted this article to his Facebook wall. In it, the author, a comedy writer himself, details why our culture has such a long, sad history of watching some of its favorite comedians kill themselves. To nutshell it, the author makes the case that the majority of hilarious people are using their comedic gifts as a shield: that something traumatic and/or humiliating happened to them at a young age and, in response to the sensitivity they developed in response to that event, they have discovered that making people laugh is a sure-fire defense against revealing their true selves to the people around them. Rather than broadcast who they really are to the world and risk almost certain disparagement, ridicule, and judgment, they instead project a version of themselves that people will embrace and accept. Alas, in many cases, the pressure of keeping up a false front while struggling privately with what seems like increasingly insurmountable odds gets the best of them and they choose death as an alternative to continuing on through a tortured and malfunctioning life.

I have no reason to doubt this writer's statements. So, let's shift gears for a second instead and contrast this reality with something different that has been gnawing at me for the last few weeks. I offer two examples.

Remembering Mr. Williams

Last night, after hearing about his death, I posted a collage to Instagram that featured snapshots of some of my favorite Robin Williams performances. In the tagline for the post, I thanked him for a lifetime of memories. I was not being hyperbolic.

I remember watching reruns of Mork and Mindyon the Nickelodeon network with my family when I was a child, perhaps as young as six or seven. Even at that early age, I understood, (to some level, at least - sarcasm and innuendo notwithstanding), the brilliance of Williams' performances and the genius of his comedy. It brings to mind how several toddlers I know adore the music of Harry Connick, Jr. (I know because I buy them the CDs and hear about it later from their parents). There is certainly something to be said for the beauty of an artistic gift that can speak to children as well as to adults, and Mr. Williams was bringing laughter into my life almost as far back as I can remember.