Q: Where is our sport heading?
A: Sad to say, our “sport” has been heading nowhere for a long time. That we have higher and higher grades has nothing to do with progress or anything in particular. That’s an evolution. We build on the achievements of those who go before, because we, as a species, are insecure and feel to compare ourselves to others and improve on others, or think we improve, which in much part is delusion. Comparisons are how we make ourselves feel of worth, lacking the maturity to determine our own worth. That so many view climbing as “a sport” shows me they are less focused on the deeper mysteries, the values of beauty, tenderness, and friendship, the incredible communication it is possible for us to have with nature, in all its variety. When we compete, we try to defeat someone else and to elevate ourselves. That’s the most mundane of reasons to climb. 

There is nothing wrong with elevating ourselves, if others are elevated along with us. There is nothing wrong with climbing the hardest routes we are inspired to climb. But to be caught up in competition draws us more often than not away from the artistic and beautiful sides of things, and focus away from the individual. Somewhat stupidly we stand in someone else’s light, in order to be brighter or duller, by comparison, when in fact the great artists have only their own light and are beyond compare. 

You would never think of commenting about whether Rembrandt was better than Da Vinci, or which one painted it the fastest. We will be going somewhere of worth when we begin to realize there can be as much art in 5.5 as 5.14, and as much adventure at age 12 as at age 25, that each individual can be loved for his or her own contribution, whatever form such a contribution takes. We should be focused on what we see, the clouds, the colors, what we feel, the touch and texture of stone, what we sense and smell, the lovely aromas of rock and air, the ingenuity and thought required to take whatever next step we take, at whatever level of ability, and how we merge with all that natural power and loveliness of stone and sky and clouds. We will become the love such experience inspires. 

As long as our foremost care is the level of difficulty at which others or we climb, we train our energies along inferior lines. We are engaged in just another unmemorable sport. If we have all the good stuff and then also climb well, more power to us, as long as we do not look down on others for their inability to follow on our same holds. 

Q: Why do you climb?
A: I climb because it was a gift that came to me out of the magic and mystery of the world. I found it full of adventure and beauty. It was utterly compelling to my soul. The deepest impressions upon me were the friendships I began to make, and the integrity of the people, although as I have said I went through a disillusionment when some people proved mean-spirited, jealous, or cruel. That was the competition raising its ugly head, and I allowed myself to be caught up in it a few years, but thank heaven another gift came along, of seeing what the greater values were. I climb for those, which existed at the first, when I was a beginner, as they exist now, as an over-the-hill. 

Q: How are you like your mother?
A: My mother and I were thick as thieves. She understood my heart, and I understood hers. Nothing I did ever changed her view of me as a person of value. She always believed I was extraordinary. Likewise I always have seen her as the best person in the world. She passed away but remains in my heart every day. She was a gentle, loving person, and I believe I am the same way. Whenever I’ve been otherwise, it was because someone hurt me. I weakened and became angry, lashing back. Kindness exists at the root of who I am, as my true friends know. I’m sure my mother and I came from the same sector of the galaxy. 

Q: How are you like your father?
A: My father has always been multi-faceted, having a keen and cutting sense of humor and at times stern and cynical, even sinister. He has always been acutely aware, except in areas I most wish he had been. He was a great man in ways, with genius level mechanical ability, for example. He held all the bowling records in Boulder for a few years. He is a master fisherman. He didn’t go to college but one day easily beat me in a vocabulary test in a magazine. Exuding confidence, deep down he has been, I think, strangely insecure and bothered by his relationships in the world. Yet he could be humble in ways, a paradox. I have some of his insecurities in part because he rarely, if ever, told me he loved me and did not believe in praise, unless the person he praised was nowhere near. I wanted his acceptance more than anything and never got it. I think every other climber or person, in a way, became a surrogate father image, where I might find acceptance. Likewise when I am not liked by someone or am criticized or unrecognized, it is like gouging that deeper wound, an exaggerated hurt that, in earlier years, caused angry verbal retaliations.