The climb

The Tetons, the most beautiful place on earth.

When my father retired he was perfectly content to sit back and relax on his couch each morning while mentally planning what he was going to cook for dinner that night. That was it, coffee, couch and contemplation. He had worked hard for years; he deserved to defend his downtime. My mother was not like that. If she was not doing something, she believed that her gift of time on this earth was wasted. From laundry to list-writing her to-dos weighted heavily on the side of accomplishment.

I’m like my mother, if I’m not moving or doing or at least thinking of my next move or thinking of my next project, I’m not happy.

That’s right, I’m not happy.

My life is very full with family, a beautiful home and is near perfect. That we’re all blessed with health is a daily ‘grateful’ and an ‘amen’ to the fate maker. It’s the writing life which scatters the puzzle pieces.

I’ve heard actors say you’re only as good as your next movie. Well I believe I’m only as good as my next project. I’ve been published dozens and dozens of times and yet, I consider myself an amateur. My editor says I have a fan base, surely she wasn't speaking of me. I do have loyal readers, folks who seek out my column and, face to face, compliment my writing. But I know I can do better. I want to do better, I want to make more money at what I do, build a bigger name, a bigger platform, create a larger audience - but - when is enough, enough? When does the mountain climbing stop, when is the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other, enough? Will I ever get to say, that was perfect, I cannot do better, sit back on my couch and defend my downtime?

And what about that mountain?

That I may lose my way after leaving base-camp, and wander from the path, or tumble from face of the cliff and never make the summit breaks my heart in a way. Even though I know that life is all about the journey and writing is all about the climb, I’m beginning to wonder if I will ever get to see the broader view. I’m not seeking Everest, although it feels sometimes like I am, I’m not even looking to climb McKinley or Mt Washington or the treed mound in my own back yard. I’m looking for...actually I’m not sure what I’m looking for, and what I want, and maybe that’s the problem. I climb the mountain every day and I don’t even know how high I've gotten and where the damn thing monolithically is.

The dream is to make it to the top and plant a graffitied billboard with my name on it that everybody can see if they chose to look. I just hope to be young enough and healthy enough, to use the spray can, enjoy the accomplishment and toast the effort.

I have my Nepal Evos in just the right size, my karabiners and an endless supply of drive. Today the slope is manageable, the rocks firm...I climb. I am not ready for the couch just yet. Are you?