My objective this morning was to get started on some grant writing, converting one company over to another, and working on the new Bending Grass Project website. I flipped open the black leather cover on my journal expecting to see a bunch of miscellaneous writings, a "to do list" of sorts, but instead, ink drawings popped out of the page, transporting me back into Nepal. I seemingly grabbed the wrong journal.NEPAL...... It's a place...word.... time in my life that keeps repeating itself and I find that no matter what I do or where I go these days, this little nook settled in between India, and Tibet crosses over into my present world OFTEN.
Roaming through Upper Dolpo, with no camera to capture the experience with, due to a leaky tent with a lot of rainwater, I resorted to good old fashion ink and paper. It was more time consuming and hard to stay in one place, both physically and mentally, as my eyes and feet wanted to do more wondering then sitting, but sitting and sketching was what brought the spinning world of the Tibetan Plateau to rest. Presently I don't have to scroll through my photo files to remember what my trip consisted of. I scroll through unorganized compartments within my mind, sifting through the memories like a 1953 home video projected on a wall. Instead of the click clack of the shutter opening and closing, soft sounds of scratching filled the air around me colliding with the roaring river, horse tails swinging at flies, or the clanking of stoking of the fire. I slowly began to SEE what I had been walking through and sitting in silence, like a sponge absorbing it all, my Upper Dolpo moments are seemingly ingrained into my being for lifetimes to come.
Don't get me wrong. I love my camera and I love photography. It's an art and skill that only comes with time and an innate ability to capture life in a blink of an eye. Photographs tell of stories in more words then a written description and can become so moving that the image stays with that individual for the remainder of their lives. BUT it's fast. Rather it can be fast but so can sketching for that matter. By sitting down I allowed my eyes to stop bouncing around like a pin ball machine and rest, in a soft gaze, on the slate rooftops, dried warped wood stacked in clean piles, or placements of hand carved designs etched into wooded doors and windows. In complete awe I began to stare at the art that weaved itself in and out of the villages in Dolpo. Everything was intricately crafted. A lot of intention went behind all that was created. The entire plateau was an art gallery and it only made sense that I too should put as much intention into what I was creating. Pen in hand I began to capture my days, but soon along with my camera, the pen slowly began to join the camera deep within my backpack and the only thing that remained were my eyes, ears, hands and nose.
Yesterday I created intention as my feet and fingers found small holds on a rock face wall sitting deep in Dream Canyon. My mind and body are usually used to SEEING the next hold labeled with a vibrant color of tape, strapped along holds on a make shift wall in a climbing gym. It's easy for my body to automatically reach for the next hold just moments after landing on the present one. It's also fast. So fast, that I when I reach the top of the route, I am perplexed on how I got there. Being on the rock face yesterday, a river raged below, and the stillness of the canyon brought me back into that flat space of calm, the kind that I experienced so often in Dolpo. There was no red, turquoise, or gold tape highlighting the best place to place my body. There was only the pure rock or grey and mossy green concealing any possible jutting ledge for rest. I began to sink back into the present moment. Nothing else was going on except the air on my neck and the feeling of crunching fingers into a crack in the side face. I glided my fingers over the jagged rock, and although I could feel the first few layers of my skin start to peel back, my body relaxed as they secured a solid hold. My toes felt around for a steadier surface.
"Attention" the oboe bird repeatedly articulated, in Aldous Huxley's book, Island. Climbing and Island go hand in hand for me. I started climbing during my second year at University just about the same time I began my philosophy courses with professor Baylor Johnson. He changed everything in my world and so did that book. Tuning IN and paying "attention" is exactly what happens on a rock face wall. Rushing won't work. Steady movement, created by full attention to the moment, is the ONLY thing that will keep your heart and head calm and encourage focused intention on placement of the next hold. It's a kind of "walking" or "doing" meditation.
Climbing inside vs. climbing outside might be the same thing as photography vs. drawing. While I enjoy fast moving things like my oddly fast typing skills, the ability to fly down a hill on my bike, or the way a fully composed song will manifest seemingly out of thin air when I sit down to play my guitar, I also have noticed that cross country skiing, strolling in the forests, or the hours of prep that goes into cooking food or creating a painting is more my style: SLOW.
I crossed over into Nepal this morning through the turning of pages in my sketch journal. I crossed over into a really beautiful and quiet space on that rock wall in Dream Canyon yesterday. Emotions, thoughts, memories, and everything that has been created or that will ever be created, will do so at their own speed but with clear and peaceful intention. If I can remember the ability to be mindful and artistic within rock climbing and painting, I can remember to be mindful and create the same intention within every moment this lifetime. My life is but a canvas and I am the artist. I won't rush the placement of things. I'll take time to step back, see the colors that I love and the colors that I don't, and figure out how to reconstruct my life so that it’s a life that allows me to cross over into different countries, artistic encounters, and into more adventures.
OK, back to my "real" work
