Monday, October 15, 2018

free solo

Let us accept that we are lovable. Let us imagine, a priori, that we have already achieved and are achieving everything that has been set in front of us to do. Before we begin, let us feel quite firmly that we have nothing to prove.

 What happens after that?

Alex Hannold, it seems, has a lot of things to prove—to himself.
And a lot of cliffs to climb before he feels—personally—that he has established himself as what and who he wants to be.
 His girlfriend, Sanni, appears to have absolutely nothing to prove to anyone.
Apparently, she wants nothing but to sleep on a bunk bed in a van with this strange, ascetic desert father of a man.

She appears to be happy, sane, and with a sense of self-worth fully intact.

What can we achieve, when we are driven not by our desire to make ourselves into something—that ever-present phantom of what we might be, what we could be, the specter known as our ideal self which haunts us, but no one else seems to be burdened by—but when we have already accepted that we have everything we need?

Alex would answer: nothing.
Sanni would answer: anything.

Are we really living anything if we are still living in that terrible threshold before worthiness. Life can't be lived in a holding pen.

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