A Life Well Lived

I thought I would do some work on the couch with the ottoman as my desk, but the dog jumped up and stretched out across my papers and licked my wrists as I wrote. He’s lonely and misses his little friends and doesn’t stop staring at me as if to say ‘bring them back, I’m sick of you’. Ashley and the kids are away for a few days. I think most parents have times when they’re with their kids but wish they weren’t - just for a little while, just to have a break, some space, some air. I get that opportunity every once in a while when Ashley takes the kids to Alberta to visit family and I have to stay here to go to school or write exams. The thought of a break always sounds good on paper - sleeping through the night, not having to sleep next to a spooked and snoring toddler or give up my spot in bed for him and sleep downstairs, doing whatever I want once my work is done for the day. But I find that ‘whatever I want’ is actually to spend time with my family and I miss them more than I enjoy the break. Yes, it is nice to take the dog for long outings, watch movies Ashley doesn’t want to see, and read and write and work without distraction. But the dog doesn’t talk or seem to like my jokes or build forts or giggle or dance or inconspicuously take off his diaper or make up obnoxious songs or tie things up and create spaceships. He’s a good friend and he’ll do for now, but I want my people to come home.

Last night I was a little lonely and, I guess, wanted to make it worse and so went through some photos and read some things I’d written about our family. It did make me miss them more, but it also made me glad I had the pictures and the words. And so I thought it would be nice to get more active in collecting those memories.

The five of us (the dog too) share a common interest that has become an important part of our family life. We all seem to come alive when we’re outside. It seems to heal bad moods - for all of us, but especially the younger ones (the dog too) - clear our minds, reset our clocks, and refresh our souls. Adventure and outings have been part of our life since Harry was very young, and I thought that making them the theme of this journal would provide an extra incentive to continue to make it a priority.

I don’t think any of us is on the level of an Everest veteran in terms of outdoor enthusiasm, but this very inspiring video does a great job of explaining the lure the outdoors has had on our family. We feel that making the outdoors part of our family life has been an effort well worth making and we plan on continuing to do so.

 
A Life Well Lived | Jim Whittaker & 50 Years of Everest from eric becker on Vimeo.


PS. I'll also write about other things. I mostly just want a record of our family life. Outside is an important theme, but there are other things too.

Vista - Video by Leif Smith on Vimeo

Vista from Leif Smith on Vimeo.

This is spectacular. Watch it big and with sound.

Snowshoeing at Sun Peaks

The latest adventure: Snowshoeing in Sun Peaks, about 45 minutes outside Kamloops, BC. It was fairly impromptu so we weren't dressed properly and they rented us some giant 1980s clunkers with barebones straps that were starched stiff with years of absorbed snow and that dug into the tops and back of our feet. But it was a great time. We went as far as we could go and ended up at a frozen lake at the top of the mountain. Three of us were alone in the forest, clumping up the mountain, but when we stopped moving and the snow crunching stopped there was complete silence. There is a quote from the book Hatchet that has stuck with me since I read it in grade 6. I couldn't have quoted it but I think of it often when I'm outside, especially where it is quiet. I found the quote:

"I'm hungry." He said it aloud. In normal tones at first, then louder and louder until he was yelling it. "I'm hungry, I'm hungry, I'm hungry." 

When he stopped there was sudden silence, not just from him but the clicks and burps and bird sounds of the forest as well. The noise of his voice had startled everything and it was quiet. He looked around, listened with his mouth open, and realized that in all his life he had never heard silence before. Complete silence. There had always been some sound, some kind of sound. 

It lasted only a few seconds, but it was so intense that it seemed to become part of him. Nothing. There was no sound.

I don't think I had heard complete silence before. There's usually something - wind, leaves, birds, vehicles in the distance. But in the forest on that mountain there was complete silence. We paused a few times to bask in it and it felt like a spiritual experience. Freshness in the soul to go along with the fresh smell of trees and snow and water.