The Dirtbag Dad

Cheyne Lempe, the Enormocast, Climbing, Expeditions, & Anxiety

How's that for a long title?

I just finished listening to an episode of one of my top, go-to podcasts: the Enormocast. The Enormocast is focused on climbing. It definitely covers areas most non-climbers won't have any clue as to what being discussed. Yet, to paraphrase its host Chris Kalous, there really isn't anything else to talk about! And even if so, why would anyone even want to talk about something other than climbing? The beauty of Chris is that while talking about only climbing, he manages to cover a lot of other really interesting human aspects within the context of climbing. And he does it quite well.

While this episode with big wall climber Cheyne Lempe is about a big wall expedition to the extremely remote and cold Baffin Island, it's really about a lot more that just the climbing. It touches on journeys, generalized anxiety (as a medical affliction), and quite a few other thought-provoking topics.

I too have generalized anxiety. It’s not been all that long that I’ve been able to name it specifically, but as Cheyne touched upon, it’s been something that’s been part of my journey and growth pretty much my whole life. It’s only recently that I’ve begun to see how it has been at play in the past. Sometimes with mental health disorders, people tend to take a negative view, e.g. “I suffer from x.” I don’t quite see it that way. For me, anxiety can be both my greatest curse and greatest gift. As I’ve become friends with anxiety, gotten to know it better, and really have owned it, I’ve seen how I’ve let it channel me into the abyss of despair and paralysis. But I’ve also seen how it has helped me achieve incredible commanding heights. Much of this is about your brain and how it’s wired. Anxiety people have minds that think a lot… to the point of potentially harmful overthinking! I can use my brain to scare and talk myself out of everyday actions that otherwise could give me immense benefit. Or I can learn to flip the downward spiral and use my mind with all of its thoughts and ideas to spin them into great creations.

One of my favorite observations: A hammer is a tool. In and of itself, it’s neutral. It’s what you use it for that has impact (yeah, bad pun!). You can use a hammer to build a home for someone who really needs a good, safe shelter. Or you can use it to bash their skull in. Same hammer, different outcomes. One good, one bad. The hammer is neither.

If you're interested, check out the www.enormocast.com!

 

Legacy: For the One Who Has Always Been There (and Always Will Be)

Today is my mom's 75th birthday. Happy birthday Mom!

A month ago, I wrote about my dad on his 75th birthday (Oh Father Wither Thou Goest). Unlike him, I do know where my mom is. And not only do we know how to find each other, we regularly and deeply connect. We speak often. Still, you can count on her to hunt me down if I allow these connections to get spaced too far apart! In those instances, she knows that I've typically been working hard taking care of my kids, family, and home. And she deeply appreciates what this is all about.

Everyone should have a parent like my mom. In addition to being a mother, she is a friend, a teacher, and a guide. Someone who is consistently supportive and can listen without judgment. I am the man I am today, in large part because of my mom. And for this, I am profoundly grateful.

Following are a few of the gifts she has given me. Some date to my childhood. All are helpful to me to this very day. They guide my own choices and I pass them along to others as the need arises.

• "You can be whatever you want to be, if you want to be it hard enough."
• "Imagine the worst thing that could happen. Pretend it's real for a moment. Is is really so bad? Very often, it's not and you'll survive and be ok or better." (Important words for someone who has lived with generalized anxiety!)
• Learning for the sake of learning. The importance and beauty of the humanities. Lifelong education.
• Watching her transform and evolve from the devoted full-time mom to a full time college student (at 29 the oldest undergraduate at Clark University—extraordinary in the 1970's!) And then on to a accomplished, inspired career as an admired leader in adult education.
• Her passion to care for and nurture her children, partners, family, friends, colleagues, and... on more than one occasion, near strangers who would often later become good friends. Here is a persistence and dedication that goes beyond basic compassion.

In all things, there are extremes. Compassion and nurturing can drift toward a need to "fix" others. Sometimes, as hard as it is to watch, people are often best served when they can heal and evolve themselves. I saw how hard she tried to be there for my dad, and I've seen how sometimes she feels to have somehow failed me and my brothers—perhaps because she didn't help him "enough." This is just plain wrong. She did help. It would have been great to have a more fully present father and she did all that she could to encourage that. That didn't work out with him so well. But what she did do was to directly care and nurture me and my brothers in ways wonderful and loving—and that still unceasingly continue. This is her legacy and it continues forward, within me for sure, and I hope with my own children.

This legacy did not arise spontaneously. There is a great lineage of nurturing women in our family: her mom—my grandma Pauline, great grandma Rose, great aunt Helen, and many others with which I'm only vaguely familiar or not familiar at all. They are not forgotten. They reside within me. And so they carry on their good work via her. I'm honored and proud to be part of this lineage. It's a legacy that I whole-heartedly embrace.

Happy Birthday Mom! May this year be one of continued good health and of celebration!

 

Oh Father, Wither thou goest?

Today is my Dad's 75th birthday. Wishing him the very best. I just don't know where he is. He does know how to find me.

And the door is open. It has been for a long time. I don't bite. And you are welcome here. It can't hurt to try... though there is a lot of rebuilding work to do. And I've recently come to better see why it may be so challenging for you to walk through that door.

Anyway, regardless of all that, there is much I'm thankful for that you have given me:

• Being present at my birth and going to far reaches to make that happen in a time when the medical community and culture did not recognize the great value of being present at and assisting in the birth of your own child.

• Imbuing a love for the outdoors and wild places. You never quite ventured into them as far as you wanted. But I have picked up that legacy and taken it much farther. And I'm now passing this connection with wild places on to my own children.

• The deep and brilliant intelligence that you have passed on to me. I now understand how that can be, at times, both a curse and a great gift. And I understand how you struggled and suffered with your own parents. Please forgive them if you haven't already. Even partially if that's all you can do for now. They were, like all parents really, just trying to do the best for you with what they knew. It wasn't always a lot, and much of it was misdirected, but I don't believe they had ill intent. I do wonder how they got to be who they were, especially your dad. His family life prior to the years with grandma and you are, I suspect, a lost Scandinavian saga. The keys lie within that story, I'm sure of it. But we can't likely find them anymore. We just have make do and accomplish the best we can with what we have been given. Paradoxically it feels like I've been given an abundance and for this I feel much gratitude. I know that you too did the best you could with your innate resourcefulness with respect to me and my brothers. You have long been forgiven by me.

Happy birthday dad. I hope that, wherever you are on your own journey, you've found peace, inspiration and contentment.

With genuine love, your son.

Postscript: I just realized that this is connected, very directly, to my first ever post here: Belated Reflections on Father's Day

What is Brave?

The most brave are the most vulnerable. The general leading the very front of the charge. Black folks sitting at an all white lunch counter in the 1950's. An Afghani girl getting an education. Understanding that your anxiety is both a challenge and a gift.

Being brave = being vulnerable. Owning and seeing the power and beauty in your imperfections. It's allowing you to reveal your whole self with its imperfections and strengths, and, to paraphrase John Cage, realizing that it's all beautiful in the end.

Inspiration and gratitude to Gigi Yogini and Brene Brown. 🙏 And to Jeremy Collin's for his Instagram post that asked and welcomed musings on the meaning of bravery.

The Complexity of Examination

"The unexamined life is not worth living."

So said my old drinking buddy Socrates.

But the examined life is still fucking hard.

And completely worth it. Without a doubt.

 

The Big Reset... In Progress

Worlds changing.

A convergence in progress.

Droplets of connective ideas begin to rapidly coalesce.

So fiercely they arrive in a cascading deluge.

It's all good.

It's better.

It's great.

No more wanting to do. Just doing.

Sunset from Maiden Lane, February 18, 2016

The Big Reset: Honoring the Past

A prelude to a bigger piece: remembering the lessons Marc Canter taught me when I was just starting out in the working world (at MacroMind in Chicago and then San Francisco). Words by the perennially wise Seth Godin:

Living in a High Stakes Universe

Nearing the end of the big reset—returning soon...

 In the meantime, here's something to think about:

"I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel." —Maya Angelou

More to come, stay tuned... same dirtbag time, same dirtbag channel!

The Joy of the Journey

As an eleven year old in New England, I read Colin Fletcher's The Complete Walker and dreamed of wandering the wide open spaces of the west as he did. I set off on excursions into rainy and dense local woods that are littered about Massachusetts's small cities and small towns. Wide open, big sky spaces were few. Off-trail travel involved bushwhacking, swamps, and poison ivy. You'd get to the top of a peak (well, really a glorified hill but we're talking imagination here) and... you'd still be in a forest. These places are wild in their own ways and do have their share of wonder and charm. But I wanted to go big and I would eventually find my way to the west years later. But even within the claustrophobic confines of these eastern forests, I still to happened upon small sanctuaries of inspiration, quiet, and solitude.

From The Boy Who Spoke to the Earth

Around the same time, I began my life a distance runner, inspired to run marathons. My runs took me far and wide on the backroads where I lived. I sought out the wildest places possible. And, during the process of that training, I discovered the power of the journey. It's no accident that I was reading Homer's Odyssey at this time; I couldn't avoid its influence. Completing a marathon was a joyful achievement for me. And the actual journey of running the marathon was also joyful. Yet, most significantly, the months of training that lead up to the journey delivered the most joy and reward of all. All those hours on the road in those woods, each mile with a myriad of moments—from here is where the greatest pleasure arose.

Inspired by The Boy Who Spoke to the Earth, author Chris Burkhard/illustrator David McClellan, Dreamling Books.

Before Us... Within Us...

"What lies before us is daunting, what lies within us is astounding."

—Paul Wesselmann

Via Chris Barker who recently completed his awesome postbark project.  This quote came from the postcard he sent to me (thanks Chris!) and it is so appropriate for where I'm at these days!