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 Articles
THE
CENTERED CLIMBER
A
Taoist Approach to Rockclimbing
By
Rick Medrick
The
popular image of rockclimbing depicts a desperate clinging
to small holds poised on the verge of a bottomless abyss--rather
than an avenue for joy and self-transcendence. Yet it is
this very death-defying paradox which attracts both the novice
and the expert, rarely but sometimes fatally, to this seemingly
perilous but alluring sport. To be poised, instant upon instant,
on the edge of imminent dissolution brings to one's sense
of the present a new immediacy, renders petty concerns immaterial,
and focuses one's attention as few other activities can.
It also provides an opportunity for accomplishment, of mastery
over fear, over self-limitation and the mundane, that approaches
the sublime. To take one's heart in hand, to direct one's
mind and impel one's body over the seemingly insurmountable,
is one more evidence of our human ability to transcend our
earthbound mortality.
I
doubt whether very many climbers, beginning or experienced,
mull over such abstractions in the middle of a steep rock
face or even a gentle friction slab. Yet, in retrospect,
most people with experience of climbing voice some of these
thoughts or emotions. For rockclimbing, more than any other
single outdoor activity, appears to tap the subconscious
fears as well as the heroic aspirations that lie hidden within
most of us. The reliving of past ascents or anticipation
of future attempts brings to climbers its own form of existential
anguish, especially fear of failing and fear of dying. The
intense relief at emerging intact, the ecstatic sense of
achievement at a successful ascent, gives meaning and purpose
to the agony and struggle.
There
are those who speculate that rockclimbing as a sport is a
throwback to our early primal days in the jungle or in flight
from the sabertooth tiger. For these advocates, it is our
rise above this primitive state which allows us to surmount
the challenges in our lives, whether in the corporate world
or perched in insignificance on a high mountain wall. Tom
Patey, a famous Scottish climber, suggested that to climb
with ease and abandon we need to allow the primate within
us to emerge and produce a flow of movement which is as natural
and instinctive as the impulse of a one year old to climb
over furniture and up stairs.
The
implications of this, and the lessons to be drawn from such
experience, can have a profound effect on how one views one's
life and choices. On a rock face, one is normally alone with
the selection of each move, a specific problem to be solved
and woven into the fabric of the whole. Each step involves
a decision to move ahead or make a judicious or even frantic
retreat. Each situation offers an opportunity to take one's
life in hand, to act out each move in a complicated vertical
dance, and to face one's fears and seek inward the resolve
to press forward. To come to trust one's judgment, to direct
one's own moves, and to take responsibility for one's choices
are some of the rewards of this challenging sport.
How
does all this come about? By what complex internal process
does one develop the ability to act even while afraid, to
focus one's complete attention on the accomplishment of a
single task, to muster the wit and energy to overcome the
seemingly insurmountable? In Patey's opinion, it is a "letting
go" rather than a "making do." Others
would suggest that it takes a finely honed control of one's
mind and body to apply muscle and balance in just the right
combination. I would like to suggest that it is neither and
both, that the process of mastering one's self is an ineffable
blend of control and release, of the practical and the ideal,
of determined action and a yielding acceptance which allows
one to step outside the immediate moment and view one's circumstances
with a degree of dispassion.
This
does not imply that climbing is a simple endeavor. Careful
preparation and training is necessary to engage this sport
with safety and success. As many a frustrated novice has
discovered, strength is not enough or even a prerequisite
for some of the most complicated and demanding climbs. More
essential is a clear headed assessment of the challenge,
a sense of balance, and the ability to use one's physical
attributes in an economical and efficient manner.
How
does one train for such a challenging sport? Climbing has
such technology--from complicated equipment to knots and
rope systems--that the more internal aspects of the sport
often get obscured. Brightly colored slings, shiny carabiners
and complex hardware, multi-hued ropes, chalk bags, and colorful
clothing gives an arcane air to the social milieu in which
climbers function. When all this is put aside, however, it
is still one person at one moment in contact with the rock
and its challenge or complexity. How each individual deals
with this encounter is the essence of the climbing experience.
How
do we direct attention to the internal aspects of climbing?
How do we build within each climber the state of mind and
resources to assimilate the learning that embraces every
moment? One suggestion is to utilize the techniques that
have revolutionized teaching alpine skiing and other precision
sports. Using these "tools," dramatic "breakthroughs" are
possible for athletes at all levels of ability. This process
develops the awareness of each student to the effect of small
movements and specific postures on balance and performance.
It encourages the student to experiment with new concepts
and engage the sport in a spirit of open dialogue and play.
Advanced climbers, for example, spend hours or days, with
frequent falls, to leam and refine a specific sequence of
moves.
To
acquire such awareness requires that a student free his or
her mind of preconceptions about the sport and blocks to
moving freely and taking in information which may be unfamiliar
or strange. In the language of Tai Chi--a Chinese form of
moving meditation and martial arts training closely akin
to movement on a rock face--this means "emptying
one 's cup" so that one is able to take in new information
and expand one's range of perception and personal possibility.
A
second vital concept is the notion of having a personal center or balance
point from which all movement originates and to which
one is able to return after each series of moves across the
rock. This is both a physical and mental focus which allows
one to feel secure or "in balance" in the
midst of chaos or stress. Key to this is the ability to relax, to
let go, so that one is free from tension, able to breath
fully, and flexible enough to explore the entire range of
movement and postures available to the human body. This is
closely akin to the martial arts notion of "relaxed-alert" which
enables the trained martial artist to respond to any force
with just the appropriate amount of energy and effort. In
climbing overuse of muscular strength and emotional energy
can precipitate fatigue and failure. To apply just the correct
amount of energy and strength to perform a movement with
ease and grace means that one has more in reserve. Such economy
of movement is the "dancing up the rock" which
we observe in the expert climber.
These
skills must be developed and practiced prior to approaching
the rock. Fear of heights is so common that many people cease
thinking effectively even a few feet above the ground. They
become tense and rigid, using valuable mental and physical
energy just to remain connected to the rock. Searching for
a range of hand and foot holds or striving to climb smoothly
and graceflilly is impossible to imagine. At such moments,
one must recognize one is "off center" and
recapture the sense of balance, flow, and positive adventure
which allowed one to try climbing in the first place. One's
ability to "re-enter" can be invaluable
in many life situations.
To
prepare a student to achieve this state requires careful
nurturing and growing awareness on the learner's part to
bodily tension and breathing, as well as a willingness to
look at the mental interference which is fear generated and
usually unfounded. While there are certainly objective dangers
in climbing(such as falling, rockfall, failure of equipment)
most of these are climber induced and can be controlled,
especially in a beginning climbing situation. If the approach
to the rock is carefully graduated, if the challenge of the
climb and rate of progress is matched to the ability of the
student, much of the threat and reason for fear can be alleviated.
Because it can be so controlled, rockclimbing is actually
one of the safer activities for a novice to attempt!
Preparing
to climb the "centered way" involves a series
of mental and physical exercises similar to those practiced
in different forms of meditation and movement such as Tai
Chi and yoga. Progressive relaxation training
and "range of movement" stretching postures
also free one for balanced movement on the rock. Exploring
different modes and patterns of breathing is equally valuable,
since the first response to fear is to limit one's breathing.
Matching one's breath to a motion or to fill a specific need
focus one's effort. Helping climbers free their minds of
distractions and heighten awareness of their surroundings
opens each individual to new possibilities and capacities
within themselves. This kind of mental and physical preparation
has proven itself highly effective for athletes in highly
focused and precise sports such as gymnastics and figure
skating. Such training--to relax rather than strain, let
go instead of force--represents a form of psychophysical
re-education--learning new, more efficient and successful
patterns of functioning under pressure and stress. From a
Taoist perspective, this results in wu wei, effortless doing
that conforms to the whole and appears both natural and complete.
Because
climbing is a sport based on patterns of movement, there
is considerable value in practicing centered movement, in
individual segments and in rhythmic sequences, prior to approaching
the rock, and then to continue this process on the rock from
the lowest angle slab to steeper and more challenging pitches.
This becomes the "dance" of climbing, the
graceful exploration of one's environment which dignifies
rockclimbing as a form of "vertical Tai Chi."
While
exploring such movement, one must continually monitor one's
responses and be aware of tension, breathing, and mental
distraction. By inducing such a meditative state in a safe
setting away from the rock, one can become familiar with
how it feels to be centered and confident in one's ability
to move freely and without effort. Usually this comfort transfers
to the rock, particularly if the introduction is to easy,
low angle rock which one can almost walk across. As confidence
builds, it is then possible to raise the level of challenge
and introduce the use of ropes and belays.
To
be burdened with details of equipment and procedures prior
to encountering the rock as a benign and receptive partner
in one's climbing intrudes technology between the climber
and the element with which one must communicate. Too often
a novice is frightened and dismayed by the needless complexity
of a sport before having the opportunity to explore its more
personal components. To approach such an activity with an
open mind, to explore its connections with one's inner self
before dealing with external confusion, allows one to engage
this sport in its simplest dimensions. It opens the way,
with considerably less trauma than being tossed into the
water to learn to swim, to learning in a manner and at a
pace that fits each person. It provides each individual with
the power of choice and the opportunity to derive whatever
value and meaning is appropriate for that activity. Insight
and transcendence cannot be forced upon another but the steps
to that possibility are ones to which each of us can profit
by being gently led. This is a distinctly Taoist perspective
which allows us to connect with our surroundings, participate
in the unfolding of our immediate future, and merge with
energies and forces that are inherent in nature and larger
than ourselves.
The
Centered Climber, which I have named this approach,
is not unique. It is a universal process practiced by every
athlete who has achieved some degree of skills and accomplishment
in a sport. Nor does this climber always reside in a place
of unbounded bliss. Inherent in the act of climbing, and
living for that matter, is facing those obstacles or challenges
which temporarily disrupt our balance and composure. The
challenge, on skis, in a kayak on a moving river, on a
rock or in a stressful social situation, is regaining one's
sense of balance and belief in one's capacities to function
effectively.
One
of the great virtues of rockclimbing as a sport and recreational
activity is that it can provide one with the repeated opportunity
to experience and practice this process of regaining one's
self. Even in the face of the most intense fear, each of
us has a place from which we can continue to function, where
the will to live and excel is ever present as a possibility.
Sometimes it seems that the more extreme the risk--real or
perceived--the more capacity we have to claim more of our
own nature, to experience more fully the reality of our own
potential.
Rick
Medrick, Ed.D., is a psychologist,
professional climbing guide, and founder of Outdoor
Leadership Training Seminars which offers rockclimbing
seminars and guided climbs in the Colorado mountains
and others areas of the west. He practices Tai Chi both
on and off the rock. OLTS offerings can be viewed at
www.olts-bt.com or email sent to rmedrick@olts-bt.com
for further information and dialogue.
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