Another man died in the mountains. I say another because that fate is not uncommon in mountain towns. I say man because fatality among mountaineers occur disproportionately to males than females - 3.5 male deaths for every female, and both sexes are just as active out here. I say man with hesitation because he was hardly a man. At 24 years old, he still had so much boy left in him. An acquaintance shakes her head in disapproval when she hears the news. "It's selfish what men do out here, leaving their girlfriends and wives to go take crazy risks."
A year prior, I knew this man to be the mischievous jokester at my local gym I worked part-time at. He would hack into the speaker system and play obscene and horrendous songs for all of the gym goers. Frantically, I would run (usually from the bathroom) and change the music as fast as I could. I would then look up, scanning the gym for him, and deliver a piercing glare as he doubled over laughing. But, my glare never lasted for long, for this simple repeated prank was an utter delight to my also mischievous prankster-self.
This is the memory that I will keep. Disbelief is the feeling that I have when I think how death and joy can be in the same sphere of existence. Someone can be filled with so much life, yet it is no match for a simple slip up, a literal slip on a rock that lands you hundreds of feet below on a glacier. Energy is kinetic, warm, bright... How could it not melt through the icy glaciers and cold death? This man was goofy and wild, but he wasn't known as a risk-taker. He was after something specific, far beyond a simple thrill. I won't go on to put intentions and words into the mouth of the dead, but I will give my piece of the story that I believe complements this heartbreaking event.
From my observations, mountain towns draw in people from all walks of life. Back when people arrived on horseback instead of sticker embossed Subarus, people came here for opportunity. People still come here for opportunity, and the details are different, but not that different. During Westward expansion, people wanted land of their own, a way to make a living and the adventures that accompanied living next to a pristine ecosystem teeming with untouched wilderness and wildlife - emphasis on wild. Today, there are far more categories; Tourists, the ultra-wealthy, immigrants, and ski-bums. There are smaller categories within each of these, (ski bums is inclusive of wildlife nerds and rock climbing addicts) but most of everyone you see here is in one of these categories. Everyone today wants at least one of the opportunities as the people of the past did. The opportunity that is harder to pinpoint, and that can't be bought, revolves around the sense of adventure. It is the unwritten promise that nature apparently signed off on that assures the "explorer" finds a sense of wonderment, bliss, and ease. It is the same feeling that one gets when they are in the presence of the sublime, "of such excellence, grandeur, or beauty as to inspire great admiration or awe."
The tricky thing about the sublime, is that one cannot experience it simply by placing yourself in the presence of such stimuli. You can stand in front of a mountain all day and not feel a single tug on the heartstrings. Such is the promise that is broken by nature, yet people still spend so much time and effort trying to buy something that can never be bought.
At a time in my life I spent the majority of my day staring out at a desert for months on end. My job dictated that I man a post out on some remote public lands. In the beginning, I took pictures, read, journaled, and even watched some Netflix when the days were very slow. Sometimes I would feel like I was going crazy. I began to watch the skyline, where the rust-colored hills met the blue. I began to stop trying to make up words that could describe the austere landscape before me. I laid down my pen, phone, and computer. Pens and pictures could never help me understand this place, and a computer drew me father away. I began to stare. This is when I learned that stripping away did not result in less, but so much more.
How is it that you have everything to gain from nothing? The sentence itself does not make much sense unless you have experienced the feeling you get from experiencing nothingness. In a world where we have everything, from material objects to so much stimuli from our devices, many do not have the ability to experience the sublime because there is just so much noise. But, the beauty is that you can be standing in Central Square NYC, and still experience the sublime. It's surrendering to your surroundings, it's allowing the small wonders to move you just as much as the large ones, it's doing so much less to experience so much more. It's why so many don't feel the sublime because how many wonderful things come from doing absolutely nothing?
It is in the face of wilderness where life finally makes sense for me. It is the reason I keep coming back to it, and why I want to protect it. I love the wildlife, majestic peaks, magical valleys, fragrant forests, and nurturing rivers - but selfishly, I love the feeling of sanity all of it brings me. What is so enlightening about a black bear eating huckleberries, or a smooth rock sitting in a river? Many things... but there is one thing and one thing only that underlies all of these. The ability to access the sublime.
Once you get a taste of it, and you know how to surrender yourself, you can't give it up. It becomes a window to sanity, a roadmap for life when we all know that it is so easy to get lost. Obtaining this feeling again, or not being able to, becomes a lifelong quest. People go on this quest with millions in their pockets or carabiners on their belt. Consumerism or adventurism, many times both. Many succeed, many don't. Success isn't measured by cheers or social media posts. It is something that cannot be measured because it can't be seen or chased or even caught.
I believe that the man who died tasted the sublime many times in his life. He died on another adventure that he knew would bring him that feeling. No, not all sublime is found in the extreme, not at all. But, it is as close to a guarantee as nature can give. That's enough for most.
I can't help but wonder, in the very end, did that man experience one last embrace of the sublime before death? Or, was there too much noise to comprehend it? I hope it was the prior.
Beautifully written! Love the insight!