Climbing New Heights When Writing
My daughter and I climbed Mt. Washington with 8 other dads and their daughters.
Most of the dads know something about each other. We talked while watching our daughter’s high school events.
Three of my daughter’s closest friends climbed the school bus steps for the first time on the same day. At the eighth grade graduation, three played a flute trio, three played varsity field hockey, two played varsity basketbal and lacrosse, one ran cross-country, and each is a member of the National Honor Society.
Dads don’t know every event in their daughter’s life (nor should we); the ones we know please us most of the time.
As dads, we are fortunate. These young women are smart, funny, and friends. They contribute, manage their lives, share with each other, and care about each other. They don’t lean too heavily on their dads, but every now and then rest their heads on their dad’s shoulder; a reassuring moment for every dad.
I’ve gone for walks in the conservation trust land near our home, walked from Brooklyn to SoHo, and climbed Mt. Monadnock. Nothing compares with climbing rocks and paths for 6,000 feet with about 50 pounds on my back.
Here’s what I learned.
1. I was the slowest climber.
A few minutes of rest would get my hiking mo jo going, and sometimes I had to just persist. My daughter stayed with me (as did others). As one dad said, “That is so sweet of her to stay with you.” She did all the way to the Lake of the Clouds hut. When she saw the hut, my daughter sprinted the last 100 feet to catch up with her friends.
Lesson: Persistence pays off. After five hours of climbing in the rain and cold, I reached my destination. Never abandon writing; discipline and persistence bring you to new heights.
2. I had a coach and a guide. A friend wore yellow rain pants to the hut. I followed his rainpants. I told him, “Your rain gear is my yellow brick road.” He was my guide. My daughter coached me with encouragement. She always asked, “Are you OK, dad?” I answered, ‘If I can talk, I’m fine.”
Lesson: Coaches, guides, and mentors matter. Look around you; they’re nearby on the writing trail. Look inward and close by; you may find your inner voice, your purpose, your calling, and you may find a voice of encouragement just around the corner or in the next room.
3. I followed the trail.
Stay on the trail. Hiking trail markers, known as cairns, keep hikers on the beaten path without wandering and damaging vegetation. Trail-blazers piled rock pyramids every 100 feet or so to keep hikers on the trail. When walking in the clouds, cairns are the landmarks on your hiking map.
Lesson: Grammar, spelling, syntax, vocabulary, and creative thinking are the cairns of writing. For most writers it’s best to stay on the blazed trail. I think E.B. White and Zinzer understood this better than most of us.
4. I learned that conditioning matters. The organizing dad (every group needs one) warned us in January to start conditioning. I thought, “OK…my exercise routine works, my body fat is low, my endurance…well, should be just fine.”
Lesson: This lesson is simple: I wasn’t ready; I over-packed, I was out of condition.
Writing demands conditioning too. Push daily…make your mind work…don’t excuse yourself, demand personal discipline so that the rigors of writing get you to the summit.
When above the tree line, I looked for turkeys. Not a one in sight, but I saw eagles.
5. I learned that my daughter loves me. Not that I didn’t know she loves me. She showed me her love. At every rest stop on the climb to the summit of Mt. Washington, she checked on me. She’s always checked on me. “Dad, are you OK?”
Lesson: There is a circle of life. Writing, working, social networks, Twitter, Facebook, and neighbors create ripples on the edges. The inner waves and center of the circle is all about family. Never loose sight of your family along the writing trail.
