During an impromptu training run with one of my 2021 BCEP teammates last Tuesday night, we talked about why we signed up for the program. While I hung down from the chin-up bar like wet laundry, she did five reps. Though she’s originally from Honduras, she learned to climb and summited mountains while living in Mexico.
She said it wasn’t her body or her skills that was the real challenge. It was her mind accidentally falling into some dark, discouraging crevasses during a climb. This was what she wanted to master. Hmmm, sounded just like the one I woke up in that morning and had been slowly inching myself up and out of all day long.
This was one of the reasons I wanted to Climb Mt. Hood—not so much for the physical, but the mental and spiritual challenge: Could I climb it easefully?
“What does ‘easefully’ mean?,” she asked.
“Peaceful, restful, effortless, enjoyable.”
A few moments of quiet passed between us, panting as we ran through the warm night air. Was that aparadox? Could the inherent rigor, risk and challenge of mountaineering be easeful? Heck, could life be easeful?
I believe so.
It all comes down to attitude.
Everything had felt like a burden, not a blessing in the past few weeks. Something to manage, not manifest; to endure, not enjoy. Not at all easeful.
I had a super productive Monday and figured the restorative post-vaccine weekend off was the quick fix I needed. Alas, waking up in a funk last Tuesday, I knew deep down that my goals and commitments weren’t the problem. It was my outlook.
Easeful doesn’t just happen. It’s a choice.
Actually, a series of consistent choices: simple instead of complicated. Easy instead of extra. Actual instead of ideal.
It doesn’t mean things aren’t hard or challenging, or even exhausting. They are.
But, the joy still shines through.
That was the realization that slowly reappeared last Tuesday as I slowly chose differently. Turning a bad morning into a regular day into a beautiful night—seizing the opportunity to say yes to an impromptu run and the beginning of a new friendship.
Church bells rang out beautifully through the clear night. A call to the moment. Oh boy, it was 9 p.m. already! I needed to get to bed soon. I couldn’t wait to start a whole new day.
I ran home looking up, marveling at the Big Dipper and Orion’s Belt.
Could I do this easefully?
Yes, I can do this. I am doing this.
Fast forward to our first day of snow skills training on Mt. Hood last weekend, we stopped for lunch near the top of the Tilly Jane trail at about 7,000 feet of elevation. With blue skies as far as the eye could see, we had breathtaking views of snow-covered mountains to our north—Mt. St. Helens, Mt. Adams and Mt. Rainier.
Even though we were already hauling so much gear, I finally understood why my Dad had put in the extra effort to lug his camera (and film!) up every mountain—to show deep respect and prolong the awe, not just to document his adventures—and how effortless it probably felt.
There was so much perspective.
The forest for the trees.
The ranges for the peaks.
May you opt for the actual instead of the ideal this week.
Love,
Jules
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