Showing posts with label Deva Premal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Deva Premal. Show all posts

Saturday, July 15, 2023

156; Uncle Albert's Mountain,(The Lure;) Chapter XXIII; Tom Leaves

 



  Everyone seems to care so much about what I do, that I’m letting you know what my plans are. I caught the last Greyhound out of Frisco into Vail. I’m going to finish the season with some friends there. I appreciate all that you’ve done for me, Joe. All the Mother Hens that converge on me in Summit County are driving me crazy. I have my own life, and I can’t take everyone telling me how to live it. I wish you all the Luck with whatever you may find in the future. You have a really bad deal going, Joe, I tried all I know how to do. I hope our paths will someday cross again. Toby ‘Point em downhill and stand on em.’ Sara, you deserve better, I’ll write once I get myself sorted out. This is not the way I wanted any of it to turn out.

 

                                                                                                    Tom Dillion

 

     Joe set Tom’s letter down on his desk. Sipping at his mug of coffee, he missed Tom already. He felt he had failed somehow, if he only could have kept his mountain. He might have been able to teach the boy how to look at life differently, how to deal with his problems instead of running away, exactly as he had done when he was young. When you don’t like the way things are going, you pick up and head into the next mountain. Once you have done it, and are no longer afraid, you see how easy it really is. You leave them all behind. It’s what had drawn him to Arapahoe Basin in the first place, that and the Ski Patrol. He was the ultimate escapist. His wife of ten years had wanted a divorce because they were unable to have children, his parents were getting a divorce because they were never in love. The last thing he remembered was his sister saying to him,” They only stayed together for us. They were never in love. They got married because they were having you. He knew it to be true, he hated her for telling him. It seems she always made things worse than they actually were, kick him when he was down. He had run away, and never looked back. Now, he was paying the price, no one to turn to, no one to be there. You had better damn well be ready to pay the price when it comes due.

 

     “Joe?” Toby’s blonde head appeared around the corner of the door. “Have you seen Tom?”

     “He’s gone, he left. The kid can’t take the heat.” Joe held up the letter for Toby to read.

     “Damn,” Toby read through the note. He let his arm fall limply to his side.

     “I think it’s all my fault,” Toby confessed.

     “It’s nobody’s fault. He’s a runner. He always runs, never stays and deals with anything.”

 

     Joe leaned back in his chair, folded his arms across has chest, and stared out the window, at the massive mountainside.He rocked gently in his chair. Toby stood in silence and looked out into the distance with Joe. He didn’t want to loose Tom. He was his best friend. There are only a few people who become best friends. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, fighting back the tears. Tom had to come back. He just had too. He had too.


Om Mani Padme Hum, Deva Premal

Friday, July 14, 2023

155;Uncle Albert's Mountain,( The Lure;) Chapter XXII; The Olympic Training

 



 

Before you act, you have freedom, but after you act, the effect of that action will follow you whether you like it or not. That is the law of Karma. You are a free agent, but once you perform a certain act, you will reap the results of that act.

Paramahansa Yogananda, SRF Lessons

 

 

      Tom had spent the last three weeks on the mountain with Toby. He was helping him set up a training program. Giving him confidence and motivation to train harder, ever harder as the trials grew nearer. Toby’s heart was in the right place, he was lacking the timing and style. Running the courses had to be routine, repetition would lead to speed. Tom realized this and tried to motivate him to face his toughest challenges. The Olympics were not just another NASTAR Race. They were a series of steps, any of which, if you stumble, you’ve lost. No second chances, no excuses. After running the courses, they would run  trails on the Basin, a daunting challenge. Finishing up on the East Wall of Lenawee Mountain where there were no trails, only wide open endless powder turns.

 

     "The highest lift operated mountain in North America, a gold medal at the Olympics,” he’d yell over and over. He was trying to fill his heart and soul with the spirit of the mountain itself. He spoke of Joe and the years of hard work and toil he had put in to own the mountain, trying to make him see the results of dreams, grandiose dreams, dreams that can be if you have the desire to reach and grab for the rings.

     “They’re not going to just give you that medal, you have to earn it! Simply wanting it is not good enough. You have to desire it with every fiber of your being. It’s all you can focus on, nothing else can matter or exist. GOLDEN DREAMS! GOLDEN DREAMS! OLYMPIC GOLD!”

     Tom was relentless with Toby, but he knew Toby needed him. Now more than ever, the sheer spectacle of the rock spires looming high above the rest of the world, left them both in awe Toby needed the push, his skiing was getting really good. Tom knew he had a definite place and shot at the Olympics. All the effort and hard work was for him. Tom would talk of himself and his own reservations about life.

     “At least you know what you want,” he’d say. “You have a single vision, you can see it. TO BE THE BEST OF THE BEST! THE CRÈME De La CRÈME! No one can ever take that away from you. Don’t take it away from yourself! Hold on to your dreams, Tobe. It’s always just your dreams, hold on to them as if they were your child, your only child”

 

     The days were hard and long, the nights short and sleepless. Every waking hour he spent either skiing or discussing the various conditions. They spent days on the courses of Keystone, Copper and Breckenridge, covering all aspects of the different pitched slopes. The angle and texture of the snow the sun made on the downside of the moguls was extremely important. Where the shadows fell on the courses determined where the hidden ice would lay. A single slip would cost precious seconds. Vertical drop, base elevation, they all came into play. They found some hard pack groomed ice at Keystone down the road. Luckily the weather stayed dry and cold, Toby could spend more time running drilling on the hard pack cover.

 

       Tom enjoyed these days spent with Toby. They gave him a chance to get away from all the questions that had been stirring through his mind. The mountains themselves were the only stability left in Tom’s shifting world. No longer did Tom see things as “Black and White.” There were feelings in his heart, thoughts in his mind he had never had before. He was beginning to let other people in his heart and life. They were helping to shape his destiny. They were letting him into their worlds. He was finally beginning to grow up.

 

     The sharp white peaks thrusting up boldly around him were like old friends to him. He had spent countless days and years with nothing on his mind but their beauty and honesty. They were a timeless vision, always changing, yet always remaining the same. The mountains have always been and always will be. Tom felt lucky to be able to share a small part of their history.

    Toby was becoming increasingly irritable. He rarely said a word as Tom tried to push him harder to make every second count. Timing every run as if it was life or death. Tom yelled at each mistake, telling him if he wanted to claim gold, he would have to work harder. Toby reacted but was beginning to falter. He was angry and fed up with skiing, stopwatches and Tom.

     “Forget it!” Toby yelled, “I’m through for the day. I can’t take you riding me anymore.”

     “I simply said…”

     “I know what you said. You said it yesterday and you said it the day before. I’m sick of it Tom. I’m sick of it all.”

     “You can’t expect to…”

     “I don’t expect anything. I don’t even know why I’m doing this anymore. You do nothing but criticize my every move. You’re a royal pain in the ass.”

     “I’m only doing it for you.”

     “You’re doing this because you love it. You love being in control. You’ve never had anything, and think you can take my dreams and make them your own.”

     “Bull crap! You’re pissed off because you can’t take the pressure. You’re a lazy whining, God damned baby.”

     “Piss Off Tom!”

     Toby whirled around and took off down the mountain, leaving Tom wondering what had just happened.

     “I can’t believe this, every time I turn around, I get kicked in the ass. Well no more.”

 

     He turned and started tucking down the headwall toward the Pallivacini, his speed increasing as he sped along the hanging cornice that had formed above the bowl. Not knowing what he was going to do next, first David, Then Sara and now Toby. Why couldn’t they take him for what he was, without asking for everything? He never took any more than he could give. Everyone had to have it their own way. All or nothing at all, wasn’t that the motto. No one is ever satisfied with what they have. He was disillusioned with it all.

     “I’ve got to get out of here,’ he said, feeling there was nothing left to fight for. At the last second he turned, and flew off the top of the cornice catching incredible air. Tom landed with his tips slightly crossed at break- neck speed. It caused him to go head over skis and begin tumbling down the steep slope. Every time he came up he feared he would break his neck on the next roll as he drove his head deep into the endless powder. On one of the upright rolls, Tom threw his weight to his left and landed on his shoulder. It drove it in to the snow and arrested his fall. His skis had not come off, and he stood shakily his knees weak his breath coming in spurts and gasps. He was utterly exhausted and weak, Tom thought of Joe’s struggle to keep the Basin and his friends and the confusion in his life. In utter exasperation, he cried out, ”Is their no justice in this world?” Almost immediately he heard an answer a voice that said, “Be a Teacher!” Confused, he looked around to see where the voice had come from. There was nothing but silence in the vast natural mountainous bowl. He dusted himself off and turned his skis downhill and pushed hard with his poles. Determined to see what his destiny was, now that he had cheated death. A half a century would pass before Tom would fully comprehend what the edict in the wilderness truly meant.


Gayatri Mantra, Deva Premal and Miten


Tuesday, January 13, 2015

False Summits


A Must Read!

Summits And Secrets-Kurt Diemberger

Om Mani Padme Hum - Om Mani Padme Hum - engraved on a stone tablet - Om Mani Padme Hum.
 Over and over again.
 'Oh, thou Jewel in the Lotus!'
 The prayer of those who worship Buddha. Just a prayer.

 This stone tablet here comes from Nepal; from the foot of Dhaulagiri - from one of the stone monuments one continually meets by the wayside, fashioned out of the mountain's slate.
 'Oh, thou Jewel in the Lotus!'
 Somebody who wanted to use that form of prayer engraved the letters of those words and laid the tablet there, next to all the others bearing the same inscription.

 It is supposed to be unlucky to remove one of those prayer-tablets; no native of Nepal would ever even think of doing such a thing. One of the climbers on the 1959 expedition had brought this one home with him.
 Later he began to have misgivings. One day he brought it to me, which was a sensible solution.

Om Mani Padme Hum - just a prayer.
Sometimes it seems to come right out of the stone.

Kurt Diemberger


A Prayer Song
 "Om Mani Padme Hum," Deva Premal

False Summits in life as in climbing are extremely frustrating you must push past them to obtain the goal. Summiting is the hardest thing to accomplish I can't tell you the number of times I have had to turn back just short of the summit. Don't be discouraged try again! I wouldn't be writing this blog if I didn't get back up dust off the cob webs and go at it again.

In going where you have to go, and doing what you have to do, and seeing what you have to see, you dull and blunt the instrument you write with. But I would rather have it bent and dulled and know I had to put it on the grindstone again and hammer it into shape and put a whetstone to it, and know that I had something to write about, than to have it bright and shining and nothing to say, or smooth and well oiled in the closet, but unused.
ERNEST HEMINGWAY, preface, The First Forty-Nine Stories

Read more at http://www.notable-quotes.com/h/hemingway_ernest.html#KQkt3JwAw3XB5Mkt.99


My friend Bobaloo and I always liked to ski Solitude Ski Area in Big Cottonwood Canyon in Utah. He related a story about a particular slope he liked to ski that was out of bounds. If he had gotten caught skiing it he would have been reprimanded for the action. After a very heavy snow storm, he slipped on to the slope and laid down a set of tracks. On his next run up he picked up his radio and said, "Blue Leader this is Bobaloo, there is a suspicious set of tracks to the right of the lift out of bounds." The Blue Leader responded, "That's a closed area, I want you to go over and search the area thoroughly Bobaloo." He did, he skied it half the morning. We laughed often about the incident.

"Believe," Cher