I May Be Hated for This
I may be hated for this, though, I’ll say it without shame or recourse as it’s not something I need to explain. I Intend to simply express it.
Time is too valuable. Yours. Mine. Both/And. There’s no either/or on that.
2 weeks prior to the shutdown, I opened back up my blog after a 5-year radio silence (another story).
There you go. That’s it. I am glad I gave myself the swift kick to jump start myself once I had done what I needed to over the 5 years plus-minus, and been free of the mess — another‘s, mine simply allowed it in. I will certainly own that — I needed to clean up. And, I did.
What did I do? 3+ years of bi-weekly.monthly Brainspotting sessions. As a Psychologist in the UK expressed, I’ll call her C… That’s hardcore. Yes, though hardcore was necessary. Frankly, hardcore was minimum. Had to be addressed, Had to be addressed robustly and fully.
The Strong Survive?
You see, I feel, yes, the strong survive… in all the times in between times like now. But, not now. Now, the strong may fall away like chaff from wheat in the wind. Now, in this-pandemic in-between epochal time, the adaptable thrive. Not to forsake anyone suffering, though I am not suffering. Quite the contrary. And, I know better than to put my life on hold until everyone else is better. I feel that’s just false empathy that is self-destructive behavior.
Up on the mountain, Mt Democrat near Breckinridge in October 1998 — ?, 1999?… cool that something this vivid has fired time. Now, I don’t really recall except to pin it at 2+ decades ago. I was above treeline, at 14.363+ feet. So, let’s generalize and switch the personage since it’s not trauma for me anymore. Let’s switch it not to You, though to the editorial you.
You’re on the ride. Nature’ll kill ya. Regardless of your experience level, Nature’ll kill ya.
You slip off the back cornice into the scree field. You slide. You slowly slide for 2,500 vertical feet the wrong way down. The front of the mountain to down is a story. The back side down has a 2+ second drop-off. That’s death. You maybe can, though I can’t survive a 2+ second fall onto craggy rocks. Well, I don’t know that, so I’ll mod the statement. It’s most likely that I can’t survive a 2+ second fall onto craggy rocks. Thousand 1, thousand 2, click.
So, you’re stuck. You accidentally made just THAT mistake, an honest one, though nonetheless made it, and Nature doesn’t discern forgiveness that way. At this altitude in these conditions, Nature’ll kill ya. Instantly, without hesitation.
You slipped at 2pm when you should be getting off the mountain the other way. 1 hour. 2 hours. The sun starts to set behind the rim of the bowl.
1 more hour, 2. It was 73 degrees F When you slipped. Now? It‘s 23 F going to 19 F. A storm comes in, you’re still day-dressed. Shorts and a T-shirt because you carried the heavy 2 cases of water up while someone else packed your fluffy ski coat in their pack..
What was 73 degrees F, after the sun dropped below the crescent of the bowl, is now in no less than 4 hours, 23. Then, after 6 hours? 19-degrees F. It’s late October. I reiterate the temp. 19. In shorts and a T-shirt, that’s butt-ass frickin cold.
You skip the long, middle heart of the story here, because now you’re not there anymore, have received the message, have healed the shock, have told the story time and time again, and are now relatively tired of just the feat of the story. Now, you’re here. You’re here, now, again.
Though, the memory, now not charged anymore is indelible. You’re bleeding at the summit with no water. Blood and sand. You’re by yourself past midnight having made it back to the fateful back basalt cornice At the top. Nothing but yourself and just shy of 14,363 feet above sea level and 19 F. Actually, trauma soul-skins were shedded on the backside scree field. You are less than yourself. Stripped down to, Adversity doesn’t build character. It reveals it. ~ James Lane Allen. You’ve disassociated the pain as simply a sensation as you don’t have time for entertaining your will crumbling to crippled.
And now? It’s dark. It’s 19 degrees F. Sand-Aid bandaids NOT by Curad. You pack the sanguine blood flows with sand. Face. Forehead. Left knee. Calves. Hands. You work hard with sand to keep your red life inside, not bleed out. I’m done. I want to get off this. No more. I can’t take anymore. You never have that thought. If you did, you could sit down. And die, as that’s a way off the mountain. But, you can’t. You’re alive, and that’s that.
Life’s Not a Ride
Life’s not a ride like that you can get off of. Neither is the pandemic.. At that time on the mountain, above treeline, in the dark, freezing, living ion blood and sand, you live, or you do not live. And, until you’re off the mountain, until December 2020 when it’s settled and safe… you’re not. You must take care. You must adapt. You must do this until you get back down. THere’s no deadline. There’s no hurry. There’s no rest.
Never hurry, never rest. ~ Goethe
Statements liKe that above just don’t mean anything in these times. We can’t complain or whine our way out. It’s not over until it’s over, and until then, you’re on the mountain. You can’t just intolerate the situation to make it better. It is what it is. Like now. Pandemic. One of those In-between times in between the other times.
Do you continually NOT resist the change and adapt? Do you continually more and more each day reveal the character of what you love and begin to see sunlight through the trees so to speak? Glimmers not of hope, but of thriving?
Up there, above treeline, in 19F, day-dressed, you can’t just say, I’m done I want off. I want to go home. Well, again, you can. You can sit down, not move for several hours in a row ion 19 degrees F and 45-50 mph winds, and freeze, and die. I don;t think your story will be penned as The Shining II, though.
So, you can’t. You can’t, because you’re alive. NO matter how dire or downtrodden or deflated or or or. You’re alive. And, the pain let’s you know that. You feel pain. It’s clear. You feel pain. And, that let’s you know you’re alive.
You can’t waste that kind of energy reserve up there, can’t even have the slightest inkling of thinking about it. You have to focus everything you have on what works By adapting. Otherwise… Nature. It’ll kill Ya! Your tears. You even consciously stop crying because you are squandering your water. Like your blood. Gotta keep the life inside, so more stuff can come from within Later.
So, you keep moving. And, you keep moving WITH Nature. It’ll still kill ya, though at least you have the companion of Nature until then. Pretty good one I might add. Especially, when it reveals YOUR Nature.
And, that’s my point. You see, I see the, only the strong survive statement As spin marketing false. That is dafuqin simply bullshit. No charge. No anger It just is. The strong survive in the in-between times? Yes. They certainly do, when it’s fuckin’ easy, and they can delegate or rather most times abrogate. Like now, though, are they gone when it matters? Or, attempting to lead a charge into… NOPE. STOP. Not comfortable with where I just asked myself to go. Pause. Just Pause. No leading the lemmings over the cliff ‘cause the government said I could go back to the office.
Mark Twain: “I am a patriot always, always supporting my country. I support the government only when it deserves it”
Isn’t That Like Now?
Isn’t that like now? Where, YOU decide what feeds your adaptation? Cool, you can legally go back to the office. BUT. Ethics Self Care question. SHould you?
Like now. The strong don’t survive these times. The adaptable ones do. And, the most adaptable ones THRIVE.
May I suggest for you to please blog your gig? Please blog your gigs of adaptation full of emotion (with solid boundaries of course). But, please DO? Will you seed community wisdom like that, a blog at a time? And, also, DON’T. BLog what you love! And, do it your way well!
We need that. At least I SAY we do. I find it of value To full-on dig the robust variety of people I follow and experience blogging. And, tenor and tune and tailor all of You perspectives to YOURS as we continually adapt towards community thrival. We ALL need community to survive. And, we ALL need the Inner Inheritances Community Of Your Inner Self. Not vampirism. I’m not asking for a bountiful harvest of people-beauty. I’m asking for…
Fully focusing on and into your creative work… Immersion births ablution. I feel you make the world a better place by doing so.
Personally, there’s only so far I can go without creative or adaptive influence before I starve. And, though I put in my vote at Mt Democrat at 14,363 ft up and down per the above truncated example, I’m not going to that experience again. Will you comment on your particular experiences of adapting? How you implemented workability for your own thrival? Heck. All similar, each unique. Ther are stupid questions, though their are not stupid experiences. Ok discount your 20s, then comment. 🙂
As Christina Schmidt expressed, If I read one more startup blog about COVID-19 I’m going to Hulk-out and start throwing things. I need the work of my fellows to keep me inspired. A-dafuqin-men!
I concur. I robustly and resonantly concur. If I do, I’ll effin HURL, too. You see? Right there. She Hulks-out. I Hurl. All similar, each unique. We’re all different, like everyone else.
Please Dial Into
Please dial into what you are feeling in that powerfully clear way you are feeling in that way you are particularly adapting. Can you comment from that place? I, for one will listen.
You, as only you cane be? That rocks! How do YOU do that? WithOUT Covid-19 Or 19 degrees F. Not denial. Not omission. Not avoidance.. LIFE! Life, NOW! How have YOU adapted? Not coped. That’s a to maintain mode that too easily backslides. How have you already adapted? Cool. You might naturally be doing things you aren’t aware of until you stare into them, shine light on…?
It’s ok. after the shutdown, I did feel a little ashamed that I started shining 2 weeks before the shutdown, and almost felt to hold back. Almost. Then not. Then, NOPE. Fuck a bunch o’ that.. Why? Because I was shining. The a little ashamed part? That wasn’t until after the shutdown. I better keep it all quiet and stuff that I’m now having the time of my life. And, that’s when it hit me.
Pandemic? Yes. Serious as a heart attack? Yes. Has any bearing on my work? NONE. None at all. Well, other than it took a pandemic and my Dad’s massive heart attack last summer to take a week off, twice. That’s an issue. I get it.
Though, pandemic affect? Other than I have 2 more hours in the day for exercise, meditation, and creating as my commute sentence was commuted! Add, the mask, which ironically I had internal dropped. I stole back MY time. And, I’m not giving it back. I’m giving back, with creativity and imagination again. Shouldn’t have handed it over in the 1st place, though, hey, experience has value. And, I got my fair share of that value.
SaWEET! That felt gourmet good for my boundaries.
I Decided To Live Again
I decided to live again, then. And then, this hit. So, I… lived…DIFFERENTLY? NOPE. I dafuqin adapted, from a strong place of healthy, creative work I protected like family. Like a gardener mindful not to trample new sprouts, and adjust the path accordingly.
Day by day, what do I need to do differently? Day by day… new day by day rituals, mods, adjustments, shed skins not missed… etc, etc, ad infinitum ad nauseum. Just more INTENSELY now… for a while. Then, I decided to KEEP THAT. I decided to keep thriving on top of that new foundation. Even, amplify it. YES! Ok, I got this. What a NEW opportunity to refresh the discipline of my rituals! Heck. Jump in. Help out the change. Start shaking the tree. What ELSE can you shake out?
The only shame is it took a pandemic or my Dad’s heart attack last summer for me to take a week off, twice. That’s a problem. That’s on me. 🙂 + sunglasses.
Like chaff, from wheat, blown off in the wind. Like the snake its skin shedded, the snake its skin not missed, I started adapting. In one step, I realized I was getting 3 weeks to the gallon of gas in the vehicle without the double commute. Then……
What’s YOUR THEN?
How do you thrive in these times? How are you wonderfully adapting?
How do YOU thrive in these times? How do you adapt?
I, for one will listen. WIll you comment yours?
I’ll Start to Pause
I’ll Start to pause for now with this.
Fear? Fear is GREAT! It alerts you to duck. To drive around the cone zone instead of off the bridge that’s out ahead. Fear s radar, actionable and informed intuition straight from your Nature, your instinct. It’s anxiety that’s the fucker. It’s anxiety, when it kidnaps the radar of your fear, torture-distorts it into being afraid, that’s the problem. That’s not a good problem to have. Fear is, though.
How do you use your healthy, radar fear, intuitive alert system to amend your soil and keep thriving?
You see, vulnerability is the birthplace of courage. ~ Brene Brown
You see, I expressed I was a little ashamed earlier. In doing so, I realized I was not. I was not ashamed. My fear, that Radar Love Fear i cherish as Inner Community Family. I had allowed myself to slip. I allowed myself to slip off the cornice of Mt Democrat. I allowed myself to slip off the cornice of the pandemic for just a second. I am not ashamed of that. I caught this one in time I allowed anxiety to hijack my cherished fear. For just a second. I allowed It, just for a second. And, just for a second is long enough to…
… long enough to start a slow leak towards deflation, which then feeds on itself to continue to diminish Self, and then to…
Depletion indicates mis-spent efforts. ~ Jordan Hoggard
I am Not
I am not ashamed. I am not ashamed, anymore that I was momentarily afraid. Not anymore. I felt the inner pressure gauges drop then. BAM, as clear as the temperature dropping on the mountain. Now. This time, my radar communicated to me, and I powerfully listened in powerful witness OF MYSELF. The inner pressure gauges just dropped out, like a psychological mini-stroke, just off-line suddenly and just as suddenly back on. What was that? I noticed. I was aware. I asked my Inner, what’s your message? That particular fear is no longer kidnapped. The message was, I do not dissolve, and I live in your heart. I no longer allow that grace to be held hostage.
How do you hold your grace hostage?
How can you Soul Retrieval retrieve being afraid from its incarceration, and bring it back to fear? How can you commute the anxiety commute to get fear back home in your heart?
One must have a chaos in the heart to birth a dancing star. ~ Friedrich Nietzche
And, by chaos, I discern Nietzche’s intent to be Nature. Though, I’ll not presume that, just resonate with how it strikes chords with me.
How can you thrive, regardless? How do you thrive? What can you do to thrive? What supports your thrival?
How Do You Hold Your Grace Hostage?
How Can You Mod to Your Current Now?
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June 6, 2020 at 1:26 am
I will get my writing back on track. Actually, I hadn’t written anything significant for awhile until CoVid forced me to slow down and that was a good thing. With hubby working from home I was prevented from doing anything noisy or at least too noisy for him to do business.
Btw, I’ve climbed both Democrat and Lincoln among several other 14’ners in Colorado. On Lincoln I picked like 100 varieties of wildflower, then someone said it was illegal. Ooops! In 2005 we moved to Alabama, so I’ve not done anything as significant since.
June 6, 2020 at 7:41 am
That’s great about you picking your writing back up, Jolie.
Oh my, you’re a criminal! Wildflower picking on a 14’er? How could you…. LOL I’m glad I didn’t learn the hard way on that, too, someone sternly told me. I laugh, though, as she said it this way, “DOOD! Killing wildflowers on the rock is illegal!” 🙂
So great you’ve climbed both Democrat and Lincoln! Sounds like we’ve both put in our vote.
I’m still laughing a bit. I love your Oooops! on the wildflowers.
June 6, 2020 at 3:55 pm
I was going over some of the 14ner’s I’d climbed with hubby and friends and asked, why I hadn’t done more, since we went out each weekend? (I only did around 14-15, I think) He said 14ner’s aren’t always the most interesting, from the guy who bagged almost all 53 or is it 52? I think there’s been a dispute and/or contradiction as to how many there really are. It was his goal to get them all, but we suddenly moved to Alabama to care for the parents, so he was shy 6-7 when we left. I really miss it. There’s still time, maybe?
June 6, 2020 at 5:04 pm
Yes. I won’t comment on the number, as there’s too much mish mash over elevations on the lower ones.
Excellent that you got through 14-15, and hubby got through almost all of them. ConGrats to you guys to have bagged so many.
I was lassoed into leading them after an intensely interesting conversation at an art opening (of mine) after I had gotten some climbers out of trouble. I look back and go…
Naive effin HUBRIS. Site-reading a 14’er leading 16 people with a colleague. What was I thinking? Though, I more than intensely value that experience Now. 🙂
When the leader is the one who does something Search And Rescue Can’t Even Address — no 2,000 foot rope to drop down to me —. How would they know where to drop it? — plus not knowing where I was; a helicopter evac would had avalanched any safety I had entrenched myself in, plus the wind and the weather precluded that.
Good for YOU guys! I certainly wasn’t a novice, though I hadn’t experienced Democrat before directly. I’m really glad I have that experience. I’m really glad I put in my vote. 🙂 And, I’m really glad my colleague got everyone else back down to base camp safely.
June 6, 2020 at 5:12 pm
I bet. How long did it take for the rescue? They obviously knew you were down there.
That’s why I never lead. Hubby has to, because I would surely get everyone lost. I offered to lead only once and everyone just stood there, not moving. Hubby says, “where ya going?” I said, “cabin” He says, “wrong way” everyone laughs, but in a fun way.
June 6, 2020 at 5:33 pm
🙂 There was no rescue.
Search and Rescue couldn’t get to where I was was until morning, and knowing that in the conditions I was in, I took it into my own hands. Otherwise, they wouldn’t.
It was 3 or 4am when I left-leg dragging like the Creature From the Black Lagoon draggin’ my left leg and Sand & Blood Self dragged myself into a (not ours) base camp… and collapsed.
I THOROUGHLY LOVE the, “Laughed in a fun way.”
I naturally do that now about this experience. Now it’s experiences, a great well to draw from to hydrate life.
June 7, 2020 at 1:28 am
Yes! I don’t know how old you are, but those memories definitely do hydrate life. I’m just glad a good many of them were late in life, so they are relatively still fresh in my memory. I had previously lead such a suppressed life prior to meeting my husband that life began for me at 45 and I am grateful for that.
June 7, 2020 at 8:36 am
I’m 52 1/2. The Mt Democrat incident where I certainly put in my vote was in October of 1999 (lol, I think. Might have been 2000. Kinda the M.O. of my intensity. All I can really say is, “it happened some time in the past.” 🙂 ). Heck, when I get older, maybe I’ll get SERIOUS memory issues. Then, I’ll be able to set up a surprise birthday party… for myself.
Glad life began for you, Jolie! Hey, better To start experiencing now than not! 🙂 Go You!
Pure & Blessed
June 6, 2020 at 5:09 am
Fuck shame! Shine on Jordan! Xx
June 6, 2020 at 7:41 am
Pure & Blessed
June 6, 2020 at 8:06 am
Shine hardcore! 😎 Like you do everything!
June 6, 2020 at 5:38 am
Very happy to see you up & running, Jordan! (Not that you were ever not!)
June 6, 2020 at 7:41 am
I love your confession that this social isolation time has been wonderful. I vowed to myself to have something to “show” for it and I have: a whole series of watercolors.
June 6, 2020 at 7:44 am
Thank you! That IS certainly something to show for it. Are they on your Pinterest site? WIll you put a link in the comments to the series?