The Hillary Step...

"...to the left was the Southwest Face, both sheer drop-offs. The final obstacle, about halfway between the South Summit and the summit of Everest, was a steep spur of rock and ice—now called the Hillary Step. Though it is only about 55 feet (17 metres) high, the formation is difficult to climb because of its extreme pitch and because a mistake would be deadly."

   ~  Mount Everest, The historic ascent of 1953


    .....I have often likened how I have felt in love or in life to standing on the precipice...perhaps because I feel like I always am: one after another after another. One choice after another, one moment, one love...one life. One...me. After another. After another. Always standing frozen, or leaping in head on.

Perhaps it is appropriate this entry is about mountains & cliffs. I just completed my first adventure rock climbing. EVER. (Another first in this week of firsts). I did some stupid, rudimentary things. I didn't die. I scraped my fingers & shins & my arms are now shuddering as I type. I was embarrassed at my slowness & incompetence, I apologized a lot & made excuses....but climb, I did. And each time he said: ...do you have one more in you? I thought: No. No, I can't. But something in me said a definite & resounding:   ...YES.

Climb: until I get better. Climb, until I reach the top. Learn how to fall. Learn how to jump. Learn how to trust your partner. Learn to find the tiniest part of the rock & HOLD. ON.

Fight for it.

   ....I woke up this morning thinking of the Hillary Step. A teacher & friend of mine, back in high school, has a band in NYC. They called themselves the Hillary Step. When I asked him what it meant, 12 years ago, he explained it to me like this:

   ' The Hillary Step is....the last section of the climb on Mt. Everest. It's almost completely vertical rock, so most people who would climb the mountain would get to this point & give up. But one day...one guy didn't. His name was Hillary. So...they call that part the Hillary Step: for us, it's the hardest part to face, the deadliest....but once you reach that point, if you can just keep going....you're at the top. And it all becomes clear.'

 Obviously I thought about that for a long, long time.
 I don't climb mountains....not real ones. (Not yet, anyway...though soon, I think). I hadn't thought of my friend/teacher Rob or Mt. Everest in........who knows how long. But this morning, I awoke thinking of the Hillary Step...

At the moment, I am in Ashland, OR. A small town built almost entirely around a Shakespeare Festival & the tourism that goes with it. Second, a college & people who like to ski down the mountain the town is probably named after. I was born here.

I am resting. I am...hiding. I am.......trying to breathe. (I am seeing my mother).

I have only been on my 'grand voyage' into my 'new life' for less than two months. In this time...I have...succeeded in obtaining work in the field I would like. I have been called into audition, found places to dance, am making friends & connections....but I am constantly filled with an overwhelming desire to hide. Most days I literally have to fight the urge to run into the bathroom & cry, in any public situation.

Financially, I have hit a low point. Not my lowest. Not that there's nothing I can do about it: work is coming in summer & I have support, should I choose to call on it....though I would really rather not. But that is not the point. No matter my finances...I feel lost. My hands are shaking. I am just moving forward. Moving forward. Fighting to take the next step. And the next. And the next...

And I am frightened. But... I also know I cannot go back. It's not really a choice: I CANNOT.

I have begun the ascent: to give up now, because my arms are shaking and my footing isn't sure...would be ridiculous. I am aware in this moment. I feel as though I am staring at sheer cliff face, but I am almost too frightened just to open my eyes, to find the next foothold. My mind has been in an endless stream of conversation with itself....sometimes with many selves, always talking, chattering away:

 ...."Well, you know you are too old. You know you can't ever really be what you-- yes! well that's what you said six years ago & if I hadn't listened to you then, we would have had six more years to-- Hey! They are all watching you-- How humiliating! How am I going to EAT??! I'm wasting days and-- well didn't you come here to get on your feet that takes time and-- Why hasn't he/she/they/called? Oh God I'm lonely! No I feel great! God this is liberating I'm....Oh, God I want to cry! I'm going to FAIL! No you're not, you're being foolish..." And on & on...

I hear them & just want to say, "Shhhh..."

Instead, I stand here...staring at the cliff, one foot in a holding pattern, the rope stretched taut, not high enough for a view, my arms already aching...listening to all the voices in my head & all the voices of my friends & all the judgements or praise of the people I meet at war with one another inside me, ranting...while I breathe & gather strength for my next step.

Yes. I am in a very new & strange place these days. Not completely unfamiliar, but for the first time in my life incredibly AWARE of it, rather than just drowning in it:  most days I am joyously alive & happy & calm...but there's a strong air of frantic sadness & desperation commingled in it, that I try not to show, but don't seem to hide very well. If anyone asks me how I'm doing, the voices take over: "I'm great! I'm....great...but I....Blah, blah, blah blah...I'm trying but I and I can't afford there isn't any you know how it goes I always think that what do you WANT from me?! Don't you like me what did I do wrong I can't do anything right ! I-- !"  So...until I can breathe a bit more, I want to mostly just keep to myself. Except, once in a while, I push against the rock, force myself out into the world & take another step...always haunted by the fear that this step could be my last...I could fall at any moment.

...My learning curve has skyrocketed.

I took a chance coming to Ashland. It wasn't planned. Ashland is my hiding place. It is a place of peace, where I can rest in my harness, gather strength & breathe...but I also cannot shake the feeling underneath that the sky is growing darker & the mountain is calling me to climb. But rest is a necessary part of moving, as I am slowly (achingly slowly) learning. As is food. As is breathing.

...I wanted to come here later, but there was a ride, I knew I had the time NOW & didn't know if there would be later. So I said yes. And it felt so good to just get in a car & GO... There was a ride, so I went. Before that, was Santa Monica. I didn't know how I'd get there. I didn't know where I'd sleep. I didn't know how I'd get back. I don't have much money...but I trusted things would work out well. And I went. And mostly....they did.

Take another step.

In the last week alone, I have driven my first stick shift...got a 15 minute lesson in a parking lot from some friends & drove us 5 &1/2 hours up to Ashland. I stalled a number of times. I almost had a panic attack. I probably hurt the car. (Sorry K_____!)  But....oh my God! I drove my first manual!!!

Take another step.

I went to my first festival in a city where I knew virtually no one & no one at all well. I went to my first festival in Los Angeles. I stood there one the beach & cried about things that used to be. And cried about things I was afraid of right now. I wandered all over the streets of Los Angeles, in shoes that were too small. I had to fight a guy off me for the first time in my life. All the while panicking. All the while learning. And I danced. And I danced. And I was frightened. And I danced. I was embarrassed. And I danced...I was lonely...and I danced. I couldn't find my balance. And one good tanda made it better...

Take another step.

I learned how to lead...

Take another step.

I climbed my first rock face...

Take another step.

I learned I DO want to be loved, one day...

Take another step.

I learned where I stand...that I am the one I want to go on adventures with...

Take a very big step & pull.

So much, did I learn. This week. In so many ways. On so many levels. New subjects. New frontiers. Old subjects, repetitions....continually learning about myself. Continually learning...how to climb. And things are still moving. Step. And Step. And find a hold...and pull. Rest a moment, find a step & take another breath...

I can feel the support of all those underneath me, making up the rope that holds me, the shoes I wear, the strength in my arms...my own & all of those who love me...watching from the ground, like spectators. And I also look down & know I am the only one holding on the rope. Full & alone. All at once   ...I can feel someone yelling, 'No! No! Tie it like this... No, the other way: why are you fumbling? This is the easy part!" I don't know if it's a teacher or a voice in my head. I just go inside & stare at the mountain. And I just keep breathing...

Pull the rope, hold on...and take another step.

I have written more in the last two months...than in the last two years. I have created more artwork in the past two months than in the past TEN years. The month before I left Portland, I produced, choreographed & performed in my first dance show. Ever. (People kept asking: So how did you feel it went....and I would blankly stare at them & say...."What do you mean? I did it....?") In two months, in a country that is economically falling apart, I have already secured two contracted jobs & opened the door for countless others...and failed some. Messed up & missed some opportunities. And I knew it.  But all I keep thinking is: you're not going fast enough. You aren't training hard enough. You haven't accomplished anything...but I have barely even begun. But I'm here. And I am climbing. I am holding all these strings together, trying not to think: just grab & weave....and pull.

Take another step.

But perhaps the biggest lesson I have learned, these past two months & this week...is what I want. What..........I want. And am learnign what I don't. Where I'm going....what I want..... this mountain looks nothing like it did, when I was standing on the ground. All I could see was the top....And I could be climbing an entirely different mountain altogether... 

I am frantic. And crying. And held together by skin alone: But the more I climb...the more I want to climb. And I know the climb is glorious. Low as I am, scared as I am...already...I know I cannot go back.

They say the Hillary step is where most people give up. But...they also say the first step is the hardest part on any path. I think.....sometimes...it's that third step that will frighten you: The first was hard...but two steps in you go....I could still go back....I could.....the ground is near. This is messier than I thought...my arms hurt. I don't know if I'm strong enough...!

But the thing is....you've already left.
There is no going back.

And every step.....is the Hillary Step... And every step is the first.

And I can't wait to get to the top....and see the view from there. I know I saw it. I know I felt it.

... just one more step.