On The Edge: Living, Falling, Remaining.

There is an edge to life. When it comes to preserving the inner soul there seems to be a life and death aspect to much of life. Maybe this is just how life is or, has to be so that we don’t fall asleep and die in numbness.We have to be aware of these edges, approach them, and then make decisive choices.

Often, in work, family and our communities, to merely go along with others when in our heart we know we cannot, is to experience a death of sorts. It is a double edged sword. If we say nothing we are going to have to ‘live’ with our self, (and the dead abandoned aspects of our self), and the compromises we had to make internally.  But if we say something we may find our self alone and maybe even in need of a new job.

Joseph Campbell was fond of quoting a Hindu text, “A dangerous path is this, like a razors edge”, and describes how Lancelot while trying to rescue Guinevere had to cross over a river crawling with bare hands and feet on a swords edge. A dangerous path indeed. The true spiritual life journey has an edge to it. It is difficult to get too comfortable while walking on that edge.

I guess the trick is to know when to walk that edge and be willing to take your chances. I know when fly fishing I have to play the edge. But, life is more than fishing. More is at stake. A dangerous path is this, a razors edge.

I think the place I really feel this razors edge is when I try to draw near to God and ask, “God, where are you”?  It feels a bit uneasy for me to acknowledge the all too common experience of the absence of God and yet to remain in this vulnerable place. A dangerous place indeed.

 I may even be brought to the place where I dare to ask, “My God, my God, why has thou forsaken me”?  And yet still find myself believing, by faith, that he has not forsaken me. And again, to just remain, waiting, even when nothing changes. 

I also then wonder what it might mean to not feel the loneliness and sharpness of this edge and to never ask the question.

Other Voices

There are other voices. There may be one true voice inside of us that keeps calling to us yet, there are other voices outside of us competing for our attention.

Many voices call to us.  Many voices pull at us. I wonder how much we listen to those other voices.

Many of these voices are loud. Or, if not loud then, at least convincing and powerful enough to take us off our true path. They “tug at our ankles”, as Mary Oliver wrote, preventing us from continuing on our journey or sometimes, even starting.  

Voices, voices, voices, “Keep up with the Joneses”,  “You’re worth it”.  “You know what you want and you won’t settle for anything else”. “You’re special”. “You can have it all and you can have it now”,  “You deserve a break today”,   “You deserve to be happy”,  “If it makes you feel good, do it”. “You are entitled”, “The whole world belongs to you”.  

There is voice to buy things.  As Wendell Berry says in one of his poems, “When they want you to buy something they will call you”.  And, how often “they” call to us.  We can  buy so quickly that we don’t even stop to think what we are buying and if we even really want what we are buying. More importantly, we rarely question who is calling us to buy. Who is the “they”?

Until we ask the question of, “Who is the one that calls”? we might continue to just go along with those voices. The voices themselves will get inside our heads and we will become convinced that they are a part of us.  The voices will no longer have to shout. They will just whisper and we will conclude, “This is just me. This is what I want; this is my life”.

But, then perhaps there can be no true calling or at least one we might be able to hear.  

In order to have a chance of getting out of this madness perhaps we need another option. We have to utter a strong no to the main stream cultures voices.  If we hear even the faintest whisper of that one true voice that we forgot (and that I so often forget), but still recognize, we can begin again, and again on a new journey as we leave those other voices behind. As, Mary Oliver says,

 “But Little by little, as you left their voices behind, and the stars began to burn through the sheets of clouds and there was a new voice which you slowly recognized as your own and that kept you company as you strove deeper and deeper into the world.”

Fly Fishing And Skiing in One's Back Yard: Finding You're Identity And Knowing Where You Live.

There are some wonderful places in my back yard. Well, not exactly in my back yard but, close enough. I have a special affinity to things being  near by. It feels like home.

I doubt anyone would believe my claim of catching a 14 inch brook trout around 17 years ago, in Fountain Creek just west of Ridge Road.  Who would have thought that there are   14 inch brook trout in our little Creek meandering through Manitou Springs (Of course the recent fires and floods have changed this creek).   

Pikes Peak, looming behind our city, has its reservoirs that hold populations of good trout. The numerous little creeks draining off the Peak are filled with Cutthroats and brookies. There have been some other surprises. It was just recently discovered that the last remaining pure strain of Greenback Cutthroats is surviving in one of those creeks. Who could have guessed those fish, the last remaining several hundred,  would be in our back yard?

I guess I ask myself: Do I even know what I have in my back yard? I have heard some fishermen speak of remote valleys with tiny creeks and beaver dams that hold nice fish. But I have rarely made the adventure to find those places.

In contrast, I also know fishermen who always, always hire a guide because they have not learned what is in their back yard or the backyards of others.  They can catch fish all over the world but don’t really know how to catch fish, on their own,  in their own home local waters.

Its not just hidden fishing places. We have some great ski places right here on the edge of town and in the forests surrounding Pikes Peaks. Now, when I say ski places I don’t mean the big ski resorts with lifts. But I do mean beautiful forest meadows and runs of mountain snow virtually untouched. I have skied on the flanks of Pikes Peak in June, in shorts and with out gloves and not see another soul. There once was a ski area on Pikes Peak. Anyone ever still ski it without the lift?  Even just a few weeks ago in my “back yard” I found snow in upper Crystal Park that was simply beautiful (see picture). True powder conditions and I was all alone. I could make the “first tracks”.

It is not just knowing where these local places exist but also having an intimate understanding of the seasons, cycles and climate of a particular place. This is true of both fishing and skiing. I have gone up to lower High Drive on the western edge of Colorado Springs when it is 60 degrees and not a drop of snow on the ground. But head up a canyon that lies in the shade and one can find ski-able snow. Fishing can be the same way. Timing hatches and seasons and the  time of day can make huge differences. It is all about knowing intimately what is going on locally.

Bill McKibben in his book, “Age of Missing Information” makes this point precisely. He says in this age of information we fail to know two things: Who are we and where we live?  He says that it takes only a matter of seconds to get the weather from around the world (or a fishing and snow/ski report for that matter), and yet, we fail to understand the particular conditions of where we live. Activities such as fishing and skiing in one’s local home place can help us better understand where we live and who we are.

Who are we? Wendell Berry, says that we need to appreciate our own local landscapes in order to know our true identity.  He says that knowing our local environment will help us know who we are. He says that familiar landscapes (ie. Perhaps for us, Pikes Peak) can help us understand our identity. He argues that our true identity is somehow connected to the local landscape.  Yet, many of us live divorced from our local land and waters.

Over the years, I have learned a few things about myself. I am beginning to know who I am. And, part of that knowing comes from knowing when I can fish a certain hatch on a certain local piece of water, or know when I can climb the flanks of Pikes Peak and find snow. This is me. Or, at least this is a part of me.  And this is me trying to know where I live.