Fear and Falling

Went out to blip the gritstone cowboys this evening in quary.

I don't know about you, but sometimes out of nowhere I get that sense that it's all too much, or I'm not enough, usually both at the same time. I arrived home from work just like that tonight. I can't pinpoint why, life is good and it was a pretty "average" day at the rock face.

My psychological training would have me reference a whole range of formative and conditioned responses, and the subconcious looms large. I'm also shaped by the narrative that we can have agency in our own story and that story can be one of arriving at what we could be and redemption.

Anyway I headed off to see the gritstone cowboys and it was warm, and summery and there was a stillness, and as I simply heard the sounds of the crunching of my boots in the dirt, and the trills of the birds and the laughter and low murmurings of couples out for a walk the unease with myself just melted away. Comfortable again with who I am, who I'm not, who I'm becoming.

I have done some climbing myself when I was younger, a strange mix of invincible madness and fear - both on the edge of foolishness to be honest. It strikes me there's something engaging and enticing about pushing yourself to the edge, but occasionally there's the fear - and without it, most of us would fatally fall, and maybe take others with us.