My Own Rhythm Section

My father has a phrase he uses to describe people like me. He says that we dance to our own rhythm section. I used to think it was how he described weird people (and truth be told, usually it is); but I’ve come to understand what it means on a deeper level. I am following my own path.

I live in Ouray, Colorado and I spend my winters climbing ice. I spend my summers traveling, climbing whenever possible. I do freelance work occasionally, but mostly I just live simply. By some standards, I am living the dream, but I disagree. I am just living… consciously. That said, I like my life an awful lot.

I should take a step back and explain how I got here. I left college and embarked on a management consulting career full of carrots just out of reach. By most measures, this life was successful. I grew a 401k, a garden, and a healthy collection of kitchen toys from Williams Sonoma. I settled into a life that was comfortable and stable. Somewhere in that process, I started to think about what I wanted out of life; and I began to feel like part of a Talking Heads song.

Several attempts to change my life incrementally taught me: 1) Chicago has a great airport for consulting, but maybe that’s not a reason to live there, 2) you can’t change yourself by changing relationships, and 3) I really like rock climbing. In an attempt to revitalize a struggling relationship, I spent four days learning to ice climb in Ouray, Colorado. That trip was the first glimpse of my life-to-be, and the beginning of a tectonic shift in who I am.

As we basked in the sun atop Skylight, our morning’s objective, our guide told me, ‘you know this isn’t going to work, right? I mean, all guys say they want a rope gun for a girlfriend; but that’s not actually true. When you’re ready, you should come out and we’ll climb.’

1. No one had ever called me a rope gun before.
2. I already knew the relationship was over.
3. I wanted more of this. All of this.
4. While I couldn't even wrap my head around what a life of climbing would be, somehow I couldn’t imagine a life of anything else.

The first time I led Skylight I kissed that tree anchor; thankful for the moment of clarity I found there. But I am getting ahead of myself.

Six months after my fateful trip to Ouray, dissatisfied to the point of doing something about it, I enrolled in an intense yoga retreat. There, I awoke to a simple idea: The only thing standing between me and the life I want to live is me. It was that simple. If you think it’s not, you’re wrong. I’m not usually one to argue; but there it is. Thankless job, dead-end relationship, sedentary lifestyle – it was all in my power to change.

That was the difficult part. From there, the move was easy. That was five years ago, and I’m still here in Ouray today. I’m still climbing, still living a life of my own choosing, and still learning life lessons every day. Throwing the rulebook away was empowering, but that doesn’t make it easy.

I believe living a conscious life is worth living, and hopefully worth writing about, too.