Friday, May 4, 2018

nymph of the future

When I started Dovetail Mountain Adventures in 2010, my intentions were to infect others with optimism in their choices.  Yoga invites us to sit with uncomfortable feelings, striking poses that are difficult ...holding them for longer then our usual convenient threshold.  We learn to find a calmer breath in the difficult moments, calming the eyes and the soul.  We learn to communicate to our body the important aspects of pain, frustrations, or conversely comfort and joy in the most efficient of ways.

I thought creating Dovetail was an excellent platform to join groups of people, connecting them to trendy yoga and now very trendy rock climbing.   Rock climbing, for me, was more then the physical strife or extravagant vista.  I enjoyed, and sucked terribly at, finding breath, clarity, motivation, communication ...the rapid chess game.  I was challenged.  

The next step for me, the infectious part, was to build the confidence of Dovetail participants not only with physical endeavors but hopefully with daily life endeavors. 

Communication in their relationships, frustrations with vocation, and joy within themselves.  Sift through the bullshit nitpicking, simmering on over-blown disagreements.  Realizing that life IS a gift, love and respect fosters creativity.  Anger can certainty fuel motivation and clarity of situations but a breath needs to find its way between the emotion and the spoken word.

yadda yadda yadda.  This accident has me striving for that movement...the release from my brain...the release from dwelling on "what if's."  Dwelling on feeling like a failure. Dwelling on the past and the person I was striving NOT to be before, selfish, naive, stupid, ungrateful.  

Ironic I am now forced to sit.  Sit with the uncomfortable pose that life has currently thrust at me.  



What lesson would I teach myself?   

I am struggling with my current pose.  I think we all have struggles in our position... feel alone.  I am learning, that we are.  Only I can control my emotions, can control my actions, can control the presence I convey to others.  Others are doing the same dance in their own space at their own pace.  Be friends or be it partners.  To paraphrase Plato's Symposium, we have been divided into two in order to maintain a humble nature.  We strive to find our other half.  When we are lucky to find that other half, we feel like we are back to our original self.  This, is love.   
When we find comfort with ourselves, we can give comfort to others and venture further into our pose, into our minds.  My dance, next to your dance....is us dancing together.    

To find joy in the small moments.  To remember that although I am not doing a handstand on a mountain summit, I am breathing.  I can SEE the summit of Longs Peak, remember parts of the Park that I know better then the hair on the back of my legs.  I should be grateful for the running around, the failures, the incredible experiences with friends and strangers I have had in those granite nooks and gneiss crannies.     

I have found a new threshold and am trying my hardest to breath.  There is pain.  There is overwhelming embarrassment and frustration.

One day there will by joy, love, and comfort with this pose.     

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Hi Quinn,

I’ve been following your blog, and I think you are such a beautiful person with so much to offer the world. A family friend was in a motorcycle accident years ago, and was also paralyzed from the waist down. He moved from Minnesota to Park City, UT, and has been living there and teaching assisted skiing ever since. He eventually was able to find himself again after his loss. I know you will too. You have so much strength.

Anonymous said...

Hello Quinn! I heard about you when I was first starting to climb. I looked up to all your adventures and was (and still am!) in total awe. I was just getting into climbing and mountaineering and trail running and you were not only crushing it but seemed so friendly and down to earth and not afraid to be yourself and be vulnerable. I was just following from afar and low-key fan girl-ing. Since the accident, I've looked up to you even more. I know that I can't even begin to imagine your life and feelings. But I am in such awe at your strength and vulnerability. This past year, I've had some of my own medical crap come up and had to face (as a 25 year old) that I might never be able to climb/run/hike/recreate or even live the way I just took for granted a year ago. And I don't know how to face it. And I know I'm pushing people away and it hurts to hear the shenanigans all my old partners are up to. And I want to scream and cry and it all feels so unfair. I don't really know where I'm going with this. But thank you. For being so open and sharing the messy stuff while its real and fresh and raw. I was nowhere near your level of skill or ability but like you adventuring was my love, my hobby, and my social life. You have given me so much hope that maybe I can still keep going and find joy in whatever I can do, even if its so negligible compared to my old life. I don't have the words to express what I feel but I am so grateful you exist. It seems weird, since I don't even know you but you have truly helped me. Thank you

Post a Comment