We Love You, Dolores

While I've been more motivated to climb this winter, the recent weather provided some incentive to get my butt out on a couple of waxed planks. Let's just say that if Dolores LaChapelle were alive today, she would be totally psyched right now.

If you are not familiar with her legacy, here is an excerpt from her book Deep Powder Snow: 40 Years of Ecstatic Skiing, Avalanches, and Earth Wisdom:

Often, I'm asked: "How did you get into ritual?"

I did not get into ritual. What happened was that ritual engulfed me before I had a word for it or knew anything about such a process. For years, I had been skiing steep, deep powder and fully knew the bliss of such interaction with snow, gravity, and the humans in the group. But all that seemed perfectly understandable at the time and I needed no explanation. The first event which caused me to really wonder was a day at Alta when it was snowing graupel....

We had been up and down enough times to know how really good it was and that it would continue for a while, so on this particular ride up the chair I had the chance to ponder about what in the world was going on here. Looking at my friend on the chair ahead, clutching the metal rod, head buried deep between his shoulders, I thought that if someone watched a film of this scene; they would think we were suffering unbearably, when actually this was sheer bliss. Why? Well, I couldn't figure it out, although I knew it had something to do with the effortless flow of all of us together each time down the mountain. No thinking was ever needed; no concern as to whether that turn could be done before hitting the tree. So all are moving together with no thought. And of course we aren't doing it at all. All of us had agreed that none of us could ski this good - ever. So the mountain and the snow were doing it for us. These are the actual words many of us used.... the others were either on the lift crew or ski patrol; so this kind of group would not be speaking poetically; they meant it when they said the mountain and the snow were doing it...

Now, much later, I know where this feeling comes from. In ritual, it's called tuning. From the neurobiological point of view it has to do with the older brains in us: animal (limbic) and reptile, as well as other factors. Bonding develops out of this tuning, and bonding is the real basis of all society - both human and animal. When one experiences this tuning and the bonding that grows out of it, there is a feeling of deep gratitude, or grace. And you always know it's not just you - it's the more than involved. ...

It was some years later, when I found this sentence [by Josef Pieper] concerning the overflowing Goodness of nature: Joy is the response of a lover receiving what he loves. This is the joy we feel when skiing powder. All this is a gift for us, now at this moment! This overflowing gratitude is what produces the absolutely stupid, silly grins that we always flash at one another at the bottom of a powder run. We all agree that we never see these grins anywhere else in life....

This is at the heart of powder skiing and of all nature festivals. One experiences during that time the universal goodness of nature.

So, what does all this mean to me? To you?

While the silly grin may be unique to a run filled with face shots, I don't think the experience is limited to limitless powder. I've had similar experiences connecting with something larger than myself climbing rock on Yosemite's Half Dome, ascending Mt. Rainier's Sunset Ridge in a whiteout, SCUBA diving in Little Cayman with groupers who thought they were puppy dogs, and practicing yoga with my mentor.

That said, I can say for certain that I never experienced joy writing a status report, or (worse) sitting in a status meeting. I can't think of a situation in which I would use the word gratitude in the same sentence with any Microsoft product.

What I can also say for certain is that my day yesterday conjures up the experience Dolores describes. I feel thankful for the experience, even if the day started with calculations of where we could ski to avoid the howitzers doing control work.

So here's my hypothesis, more collective moments of joy would make the world a better place. I'm not saying everyone needs to quit their day-jobs to bus tables after a day at the slopes. I am suggesting that we can increase our happiness by increasing the ratio of time we spend connecting with nature instead of connecting with a Blackberry, the television, or Cloud Technology (whatever that is).

I had an experience on my last work project, shortly after I started. Someone in the group said to me: "You love your life, don't you?" I didn't know how to respond to this. Taken without any intonation, my answer was easy: "Yes, I do." What was less easy to respond to was the implication that it was somehow wrong or unacceptable to love your life.

I think this person needs more turns in their day. More joy in their life. We all do. This video may not help you experience the joy of powder skiing, but it may make you laugh. (FYI, we skied the couloir on looker's left above this shot.) I never fall when I ski. The video will prove me a liar, but it had to be said.