The dry summer heat washes over my heart like an iron. It flattens the wrinkles of struggle and makes creases of the lessons. So much struggle so far ... so much more to come. This is my time to breathe, to let loose the calm nature of my soul, expand my consciousness and bring close those destructive qualities that may hinder my path.
Today, I do not know if I have two months or six. Whether or not this break lasts, I shall embrace it as a possible existence.
Two days ago, I stood at a belay station looking at a pitch. I was the last to follow and the first to express interest in the lead. It was a traditional route with the last pitch all sport. The bolts more than 20 feet apart in the beginning, along the traverse. I knew I could manage the route, but my head started to deter me from my path. And suddenly, I said "Let's go." And I flashed the route. The scary parts were scary. The first two bolts were pretty exposed. I led out across the wall and came out to the arete, felt the road under me and saw the last bolt was no more. The crux came and went without notice. One-hundred-forty feet later, I watched little Lego cars drive and honk in the panoramic view of the canyon.
Micro-fractures may still form in this little paradise. Maybe some night while I lie alone - jaded in my quest to find the perfect love - I may find myself wondering if I could ever be that passionate of a lover again. For love without passion is no love at all. So I will close my eyes and be hopeful.
Hope is a guiding light for a wandering soul.