6/6/2008 (Part III)

In my late teenage years, I set out on a quest of personal evolution in an effort to test and hopefully find my limits as a human being, to exert myself far beyond the norm. I want to push myself to the very fringe of my existence, and while standing there at the bitter end with a slightly fatigued but still determined gleam in the eye, I want to take my proverbial limit into my hands and crush it within my grasp. I want to see its grainy remains fall to the ground in cinematic slow motion, and when the last speck of dust has completed its crestfallen descent from between my war-battered hands, I want to cross that ever-elusive boundary line and step into the unknown, all without reaching self-destruction. And that is what makes this journey so difficult. Any fool can dive head first into oblivion, but few reemerge to tell the tale gained by stepping beyond the typical human experience. This is my main goal in life, and it plays a large part in my attraction to adventure sports. I want to reengineer my body and psyche from the core outward. The exhilaration brought on by true adventure helps me to examine my position within the mortal coil more closely and maintain my composure with military precision. When danger lurks around every corner, correct decisions are of utmost importance, and the outcome is at all times deadly serious. It is like a game of chess, but I am playing with my life instead of mass-produced wooden pawns. I am well aware of the imperfections I carry with me daily like my own keenly veiled stigmata, more aware of my shortcomings than anyone else in this cruel, cruel world. But these imperfections serve in part as the inspiration for my journey to the summit of the mountain of life. To quote the rocker Henry Rollins, "I will make weapons of my imperfections." With this in my tool bag, I think I just might be unstoppable. With a bit of ingenuity, no obstacle is insurmountable. My entire life, I have viewed the world in a different light than the ordinary person. I don't believe this to be delusion but instead, a gift, almost as if I won some sort of deranged genetic lottery. Under intense scrutiny, sometimes necessity can be found nestled inside a wrapping of tragedy, and I think there is real beauty in that, chaotic as it may be. There are two lines of dialogue from Fight Club that say, "It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything," and "Only after disaster can we be resurrected." No other film has been so life-affirming for me. Once a deep enough hole is dug, the only way to look is up, and this is when the light above appears brightest.