I was about to go to Yemen, which I knew was a risk because the country was dangerous and a law unto itself. The day before my departure I wandered around my home-town of Southend-on-Sea. I walked to the end of the pier, which is a long way – 1.33 miles. I had a cup of tea in the cafe, then I walked back. I headed west along the seafront. At Chalkwell, I sat on a bench and I watched the sun go down over the water.
Roughly a month before, I had gone through a bad falling out with someone who I had known for a very long time. In hindsight the friendship was over. We had grown apart. Neither one of us liked or respected the other. At the time it was all still up in the air; too early to call A mutual friend had suggested that, before I left the country, I should make my peace. I told him: “That would be a lie.”
Still, I thought about it. I was going somewhere where there was the potential for harm. I knew that, while I was there, I would take risks. There was a possibility that I might not come back. My thoughts were along these lines: 'If I am saying goodbye to England, am I happy with the way that I've left things?' I decided that I was and it made life easier. I was able to immerse myself more in the present moment. Ironically if I hadn't drawn that line before I left the country, then I might not have come back because there were certainly moments where things could have gone either way. I was able to respond to reality in front of me rather than allowing my fear of what I might lose to muddy my judgment.
As bad as things are for you, there is a better version of your life within your mental reach. However, it can only be achieved through the acceptance of your unpalatable present. Once you have embraced that reality, the ways in which you can move forward and make improvements to your life may become more apparent. That cannot happen when your gaze is weighted so heavily towards your past which cannot be changed.
If you old self is dead, then you need to hold a funeral so that you can move on. I wonder whether there would be any value in some kind of guided meditation or hypnosis that would allow you to vividly revisit those hours before your fall; to inhabit those moments in the full knowledge that this was the last time. There is the potential for repressed terrors to be dredged from the recesses of your consciousness and dragged to the surface, but maybe that too would be beneficial in the long term.
I learned something from my chameleon, Frederic, when he died. At the end he opened his eyes and he looked right at me. My face was the last thing he ever saw. At the moment of death, assuming you have the opportunity for reflection, you get to unequivocally define your own future. You write the last meaningful lines in your own story. If your final conscious thoughts on earth are that you are going to Heaven, then that is where you went.
I cried after reading this because I feel your grief. While I am just a shitty climber plateauing at 6c, rock climbing has been a journey of overcoming challenges, facing fears, and experiencing personal growth. Your metaphor of losing the love of your life resonates with me deeply. I believe that the tremendous resilience you have demonstrated is a result of your years of climbing. I hope it continues to empower you.
Paul, you navigate the dangerous terrain of expressing publically the intimate nature of current life as skillfully and courageously as you navigated the mountains you once climbed. Bravo to you! And thank you.
Maybe twenty years ago I met a women who was about my age, we like each other I thought. She a child phycologist me and artist the only real difference was she was a quadriplegic and I wasn't. Of course there were accommodations that needing to be made when we went to lunch or walks but it never occurred to me that when she was 16 and broke her back that she had as of yet experienced an orgasm. I was much younger when I had sex so I inadvertently thought she knew what that was. Because of her injury the only way she could get close was using an opioid suppository, one day she asked me to explain what an orgasm felt like. I wish I could say I handled the honest inquiry with more compassion. I was annoyed that she only asked me that question, maybe it was my own body dysmorphia that repelled me I'm not sure but your blog has reminded me of her and wishing I hadn't lost connection to her. She deserved better and I might have gotten a long term good friend.
Paul … you chose the life you loved … climbing straight up rock faces that even exceptional athletes wouldn’t dare attempt. This was your passion. You chose it because it was inherently dangerous, not because it was a physical rush to climb straight up, or am I wrong?
If you chose it because it is dangerous, you were proven right. It is dangerous. But, It was the activity meant for you, and you lived it the best you could. And admit it, you were going to keep climbing no matter how many people told you to stop.
If you chose it because it was a physical rush, then it is worth asking yourself why you did not consider the risk of serious injury more seriously. There are a lot of sports that provide a “high” from physical exertion, while at the same time being less risky than climbing straight up vertical rock walls.
And yes, it really was a physical rush to climb up rock faces. Anyone who climbed at a decent level will tell you that the athleticism aspect of it is absolutely central. I genuinely don't know if there is anything else out there which combines total physical commitment with total mental commitment, at the same time, in the way climbing does. When it all goes right, and combines in the best ways, it is better than any drug that will ever be invented, and with only positive side effects. I guess that is why climbing is addictive
Physically demanding exertion; the most intense form of exercise and the accompanying physical satisfaction this brought
Psychological challenge
Problem-solving in terms of use of body
Being outdoors in beautiful locations
A sense of 'tuning in' to one's own body, and improving this with time
Meeting a wide variety of interesting people I'd never have come across otherwise
Constantly challenging myself to get better, and seeing the results of dedicated hard work pay off slowly but surely over time
Travel to new and beautiful locations across the whole world
As it happens, danger was never an attraction for me. To be sure, I progressively became more and more willing to put myself in more and more dangerous situations. But not because they were dangerous, but because they represented variations on the challenges inherent to the sport. I was never "thrill seeking" in terms of risk for the sake of risk. Although I did sometimes do risky things, it was for the challenge, not the thrill.
I think your understanding of recreational rock climbing is lacking, Clark. Whilst there are certain disciplines or styles of climbing that are extremely dangerous, and there is at least some risk attached to most, the vast majority of climbers will never be in genuine danger. From the details of Paul's accident that I am aware of, he was nothing other than catastrophically unfortunate.
Brilliant writing, Paul. Your honesty is brutal, yet full of insight. I understand this concept of grief in relation to an 'activity'. I, for one, will certainly be looking for a heavenly football when the time comes to leave this mortal coil. That said, there is still much to live for and I hope you see the value in the words you produce - indeed, I hope they give you pleasure when you read them back.
I even subscribed to this thing to be able to comment.
Obviously, you should be writing. You have talent, and I like to read it whatever your mood. It is life and I am curious. It must be hell. Keep writing. You can push the limits the same way as the guys who climbed the north face Jannu. At the very least, you remind us, the not-unlucky ones, how lucky we are.
Also I suggest checking out The Red Hand Files by Nick Cave.
I’m rooting for you to find peace. I’m an avid trad climber and find myself in a similar situation you describe in your past self with constant training and the endless pursuit of more, whether it be more rock locations, more grades, more gyms. Sometimes I ask myself why I’m into this very arbitrary “sport” of dangling off tiny rock features. It’s inherently risky, and of course, I always know that if I were to get seriously injured I personally would look back and would have to say it clearly wasn’t worth the risk and disability. But that doesn’t stop me from taking the risk now as like most people I think “that’ll never happen to me, I'm too safe/ handsome/ lucky/ better with gear/ more technically sound” (or whatever cognitive dissonance we come up with to justify our pursuit and fail to account for how much of it all just comes down to dumb luck). Often times I feel like rock climbing could be akin to some mental illness. It’s hard not to feel that way when you’re pushing a grade or on the sharp end of a run out and you ask yourself “why do I do this to myself, golf might be nicer”. But then you finish and you forget the fear and remember the fun and that’s that. As climbers and outdoorsman I feel this is something we all may struggle with. I’ll leave you with a quote that has helped me justify it (sometimes):
Maybe we can view risk like we would a drug, beneficial to the organism in the proper dose, too much or too little may be
I was about to go to Yemen, which I knew was a risk because the country was dangerous and a law unto itself. The day before my departure I wandered around my home-town of Southend-on-Sea. I walked to the end of the pier, which is a long way – 1.33 miles. I had a cup of tea in the cafe, then I walked back. I headed west along the seafront. At Chalkwell, I sat on a bench and I watched the sun go down over the water.
Roughly a month before, I had gone through a bad falling out with someone who I had known for a very long time. In hindsight the friendship was over. We had grown apart. Neither one of us liked or respected the other. At the time it was all still up in the air; too early to call A mutual friend had suggested that, before I left the country, I should make my peace. I told him: “That would be a lie.”
Still, I thought about it. I was going somewhere where there was the potential for harm. I knew that, while I was there, I would take risks. There was a possibility that I might not come back. My thoughts were along these lines: 'If I am saying goodbye to England, am I happy with the way that I've left things?' I decided that I was and it made life easier. I was able to immerse myself more in the present moment. Ironically if I hadn't drawn that line before I left the country, then I might not have come back because there were certainly moments where things could have gone either way. I was able to respond to reality in front of me rather than allowing my fear of what I might lose to muddy my judgment.
As bad as things are for you, there is a better version of your life within your mental reach. However, it can only be achieved through the acceptance of your unpalatable present. Once you have embraced that reality, the ways in which you can move forward and make improvements to your life may become more apparent. That cannot happen when your gaze is weighted so heavily towards your past which cannot be changed.
If you old self is dead, then you need to hold a funeral so that you can move on. I wonder whether there would be any value in some kind of guided meditation or hypnosis that would allow you to vividly revisit those hours before your fall; to inhabit those moments in the full knowledge that this was the last time. There is the potential for repressed terrors to be dredged from the recesses of your consciousness and dragged to the surface, but maybe that too would be beneficial in the long term.
I learned something from my chameleon, Frederic, when he died. At the end he opened his eyes and he looked right at me. My face was the last thing he ever saw. At the moment of death, assuming you have the opportunity for reflection, you get to unequivocally define your own future. You write the last meaningful lines in your own story. If your final conscious thoughts on earth are that you are going to Heaven, then that is where you went.
I cried after reading this because I feel your grief. While I am just a shitty climber plateauing at 6c, rock climbing has been a journey of overcoming challenges, facing fears, and experiencing personal growth. Your metaphor of losing the love of your life resonates with me deeply. I believe that the tremendous resilience you have demonstrated is a result of your years of climbing. I hope it continues to empower you.
Sending support from Thailand
Paul, you navigate the dangerous terrain of expressing publically the intimate nature of current life as skillfully and courageously as you navigated the mountains you once climbed. Bravo to you! And thank you.
I LOVE the image of you chalking up in heaven. 💚
Maybe twenty years ago I met a women who was about my age, we like each other I thought. She a child phycologist me and artist the only real difference was she was a quadriplegic and I wasn't. Of course there were accommodations that needing to be made when we went to lunch or walks but it never occurred to me that when she was 16 and broke her back that she had as of yet experienced an orgasm. I was much younger when I had sex so I inadvertently thought she knew what that was. Because of her injury the only way she could get close was using an opioid suppository, one day she asked me to explain what an orgasm felt like. I wish I could say I handled the honest inquiry with more compassion. I was annoyed that she only asked me that question, maybe it was my own body dysmorphia that repelled me I'm not sure but your blog has reminded me of her and wishing I hadn't lost connection to her. She deserved better and I might have gotten a long term good friend.
Paul, are you still friends with the person who helped you after the accident or is the relationship too painful?
Paul … you chose the life you loved … climbing straight up rock faces that even exceptional athletes wouldn’t dare attempt. This was your passion. You chose it because it was inherently dangerous, not because it was a physical rush to climb straight up, or am I wrong?
If you chose it because it is dangerous, you were proven right. It is dangerous. But, It was the activity meant for you, and you lived it the best you could. And admit it, you were going to keep climbing no matter how many people told you to stop.
If you chose it because it was a physical rush, then it is worth asking yourself why you did not consider the risk of serious injury more seriously. There are a lot of sports that provide a “high” from physical exertion, while at the same time being less risky than climbing straight up vertical rock walls.
Why did you choose to climb?
And yes, it really was a physical rush to climb up rock faces. Anyone who climbed at a decent level will tell you that the athleticism aspect of it is absolutely central. I genuinely don't know if there is anything else out there which combines total physical commitment with total mental commitment, at the same time, in the way climbing does. When it all goes right, and combines in the best ways, it is better than any drug that will ever be invented, and with only positive side effects. I guess that is why climbing is addictive
A combination of:
Physically demanding exertion; the most intense form of exercise and the accompanying physical satisfaction this brought
Psychological challenge
Problem-solving in terms of use of body
Being outdoors in beautiful locations
A sense of 'tuning in' to one's own body, and improving this with time
Meeting a wide variety of interesting people I'd never have come across otherwise
Constantly challenging myself to get better, and seeing the results of dedicated hard work pay off slowly but surely over time
Travel to new and beautiful locations across the whole world
As it happens, danger was never an attraction for me. To be sure, I progressively became more and more willing to put myself in more and more dangerous situations. But not because they were dangerous, but because they represented variations on the challenges inherent to the sport. I was never "thrill seeking" in terms of risk for the sake of risk. Although I did sometimes do risky things, it was for the challenge, not the thrill.
I think your understanding of recreational rock climbing is lacking, Clark. Whilst there are certain disciplines or styles of climbing that are extremely dangerous, and there is at least some risk attached to most, the vast majority of climbers will never be in genuine danger. From the details of Paul's accident that I am aware of, he was nothing other than catastrophically unfortunate.
How have you been Paul? Long time, no words!! Waiting to hear from you.
Love !!
Brilliant writing, Paul. Your honesty is brutal, yet full of insight. I understand this concept of grief in relation to an 'activity'. I, for one, will certainly be looking for a heavenly football when the time comes to leave this mortal coil. That said, there is still much to live for and I hope you see the value in the words you produce - indeed, I hope they give you pleasure when you read them back.
Hi, Paul,
I even subscribed to this thing to be able to comment.
Obviously, you should be writing. You have talent, and I like to read it whatever your mood. It is life and I am curious. It must be hell. Keep writing. You can push the limits the same way as the guys who climbed the north face Jannu. At the very least, you remind us, the not-unlucky ones, how lucky we are.
Also I suggest checking out The Red Hand Files by Nick Cave.
I’m rooting for you to find peace. I’m an avid trad climber and find myself in a similar situation you describe in your past self with constant training and the endless pursuit of more, whether it be more rock locations, more grades, more gyms. Sometimes I ask myself why I’m into this very arbitrary “sport” of dangling off tiny rock features. It’s inherently risky, and of course, I always know that if I were to get seriously injured I personally would look back and would have to say it clearly wasn’t worth the risk and disability. But that doesn’t stop me from taking the risk now as like most people I think “that’ll never happen to me, I'm too safe/ handsome/ lucky/ better with gear/ more technically sound” (or whatever cognitive dissonance we come up with to justify our pursuit and fail to account for how much of it all just comes down to dumb luck). Often times I feel like rock climbing could be akin to some mental illness. It’s hard not to feel that way when you’re pushing a grade or on the sharp end of a run out and you ask yourself “why do I do this to myself, golf might be nicer”. But then you finish and you forget the fear and remember the fun and that’s that. As climbers and outdoorsman I feel this is something we all may struggle with. I’ll leave you with a quote that has helped me justify it (sometimes):
Maybe we can view risk like we would a drug, beneficial to the organism in the proper dose, too much or too little may be
harmful."
Fred Beckey books!!