MEASURE (v.): meas-ured, meas-ur-ing, meas-ures
- To ascertain the dimensions, quality, or capacity of
- To mark, lay out, or establish dimensions for by measuring
- To estimate by evaluation or comparison
- To serve as a measure of
- To consider or choose with care; weigh
- Archaic: To travel over
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Some people measure their lives by the money they make, the number of promotions they’ve gotten, number of houses they own, number of kids they’ve had. Others measure their lives by the number of people they’ve kissed, the number of rivers they’ve kayaked, the number of seas they’ve touched, the number of countries they’ve visited, the number of days a year they have free to go on walk-about.
This life, MY LIFE, however, is measured by mountains.
The Sawtooths, the Tetons, the Beartooths, the Bitterroots,
the Cabinets, the Lewis’, the Livingston’s, the Rattlesnakes, the Sapphires,
the Missions, the Swans. The Wasatch, the Escalantes, the Cedars, the La
Salles. The Sierra Nevadas, the Cascades, the Appalachians, the Blueridges, the
Brooks, the Chugachs, the Alaskas, the Andes, the Dentelles, the Alps, the Kilimanjaros
(ok you got me there… Kili’s not really part of a range- it’s just a three
peaked volcano), and soon the mighty Himalayas.
So many ranges that my mind can scarcely remember the names
of every one let alone recall the surplus of summit names with memories
attached within them.
So much life, a whirlwind of life, takes place within, on
top of, at the base of, and even away from (but still thinking about) these
ranges. An incredible amount. They have a certain je ne sais quoi, a certain something
about them that holds your mind captive. They keep you returning no matter how
many thousands of miles you attempt to stray from them. The farther you stray from one, the closer you get to another… and rest assured another will almost always appear just at the moment you need it most.
. . .
Some folks think if you’ve seen one mountain, you’ve seen ‘em
all and to them we kindly say “Good Riddance.” Those of us who know better
chuckle, we shake our heads for a moment then push thoughts of them in addition
to everything on the kitchen table off to the side, and plaster our plethora of
maps across its surface to pour over every inch in perusal of the next
adventure…
….and each successive escapade only leads us deeper down the
rabbit hole exposing every new ridgeline, river, valley, cirque, and cwm to
explore.
We thrive on the trials that come with hoofing heavy packs
up a pass. We thrive on the moments of sheer sogginess stemming from the
unexpected squall hiding behind a peak until that most inopportune waist-deep
river crossing moment with no hope of respite from raingear. We thrive on the cacophony
of colorful jokes that arise from folks huddling under small tarps during
multi-hour hailstorms. We thrive and often even enjoy.
We know you must take the lows to earn the highs. We know we must serve our time within Mother Nature’s tempestuous troughs to stand atop her mighty crests. We know (though we don’t always act in accordance with) that the wilds are nary a place for pompousness. We accept the humility humanity must have to survive, to coexist with the wildness on this earth. We take comfort in the solace our surroundings give us, we take solace in the unknown adventures these places throw at us, we take solace in the raw experience that is this life.
We know you must take the lows to earn the highs. We know we must serve our time within Mother Nature’s tempestuous troughs to stand atop her mighty crests. We know (though we don’t always act in accordance with) that the wilds are nary a place for pompousness. We accept the humility humanity must have to survive, to coexist with the wildness on this earth. We take comfort in the solace our surroundings give us, we take solace in the unknown adventures these places throw at us, we take solace in the raw experience that is this life.
When it comes down to it, we are all merely a collection of
moments, of experiences, of memories, of emotions. We are the smiles, the
tears, the laughs, the grimaces, the aches, the pains, and the thoughts
flitting through our minds and across our faces. We are the adventures we
undertake and the challenges we surmount. We are the places we live amidst, the
people we live amongst, and the mountain ranges we meander through.
“Now here’s what I believe: real adventure is not polished. It’s not the result of some marketing budget, there’s no hashtag for it. It burns brightest on the map’s edges but it exists in all of us. It exists at the intersection of imagination and the ridiculous. You have to have faith. It will find you there. And when it does, remember there’s just one question…”*
…..what do you measure your life by?
* Kyle Dempster, The Road from Karakol