vice/virtue

Not everyone can be a dirtbag.

Climbing daily, dirty, and dangerously - this is a seductive prospect. Two weeks ago, when I was laid off from my full time writing gig, my first impulse was to take a few months and repurpose (if I may borrow the green speak) my time and my life. Forget the corporate hooha. Cycle the country. Or skip the country altogether and bum around Canada for a while. I couldn’t afford the Mt. Rainier summit trip I was planning for that weekend, but I could take a minute to plan and execute the escape I’ve always wanted. The escape any outdoor enthusiast always wanted.

Then I remembered my other responsibilities - unrelated to money-making. People depend on me as a volunteer and a friend.

So instead of running off permanently with a mummy sack and a pair of climbing shoes, I spent five days at the Squamish Mountain Festival. (Reports coming soon.) The blast was had. I loved the camping, the climbing, and the partying. Truth be told, I woulda been happy staying a lot longer. But I had to come back, and when I did, a new job was waiting. I took it.

To be the dirtbag I dream of being, I’d attain one dream and give up many others. Apparently, I’m not ready for that yet. Slightly disappointed in myself. But then, how many people get to climb, cycle, backpack, and then throw on clean shirt and pack away the cash in a cushy office job doing the other thing they love? I should feel proud of my balanced life - and I am.