The Rock Warrior's Way: Mental Training For Climbers

outcome is less important. When people say try, they are thinking of the outcome instead of the process of learning. A warrior doesn’t try because he’s focusing on his effort, and effort is something applied, not tried.
    Center Yourself
    The Becoming Conscious process helps you be aware of the many sources of power within you, and the many ways you waste that power. Life is Subtle is about taking that self-knowledge and consciously shaping your bodymind into a more efficient, powerful unit. The way we stand, the expression on our faces, how we breathe, and how we talk to ourselves—all these contain subtle opportunities to gather or waste power. The little things are immensely important. Dan Millman councils us that “every act is a deliberate act of will. Even when tying your shoes—tie them impeccably.”
    When faced with a climbing challenge, collect and center all available attention within you. Guide your self-talk into channels of power. Take a deep breath, exhale strongly, and shake your face to get rid of any grimace. Push your hips in close to the rock and bring your shoulders back. The action word for the Life is Subtle process is Center . This word will remind you of the essence of this chapter and help you focus attention as a warrior.

Chapter 3
    Accepting Responsibility
    The third warrior process is Accepting Responsibility. So far, you have plugged power sinks and power leaks in order to retain attention. You have collected and centered your attention within you to make it available for the climbing challenge. In Accepting Responsibility, you will use your attention—your power—to cut through delusions and misconceptions in the situation facing you, replacing them with useful facts and an empowered approach. You will use your developing warrior mind to become aware of pitfalls that can sabotage your performance and to direct your attention actively on what will enhance it.
    There are strong influences in our society that discourage us from accepting responsibility. We expect every intersection in town to have a stop sign and every trail hazard on a ski run to be marked. Our courts are full of lawsuits that seek to blame wet floors or hot coffee for causing injuries that are clearly the result of our own inattention. We have made it the job of our government to enact laws requiring us to wear seatbelts. All of these things fuel our habitual tendency to blame others for our own mistakes. Slowly but surely, we develop the unconscious conviction that our own safety is someone else’s responsibility. Climbing, by its nature, tends to counteract this socializing influence, but most of us continue to bear its mark.
    Ego, too, plays a role in our shirking of responsibility. The Ego is constantly equating our self-worth with our achievements and performances. We have an innate need to feel good about ourselves. When our Ego is in charge, we tend to protect ourselves by transferring responsibility for a poor performance to someone or something else. The Ego is shrewd and will try to appear objective and rational when it blames, but its logic serves a single goal: boosting an externally derived self-image. This defensive tactic saps our power to respond effectively to challenges.
    The Ego is careful not to reveal its machinations too easily. It knows how to pick its battles. Thus, most of us accept responsibility for things we have obviously brought upon ourselves, especially if these things don’t seriously threaten the Ego. If we drink too much one night, we probably can accept responsibility for the hangover the next morning (although even then we might try to blame it on the cheap wine). If we drop and break a plate, most of us can accept responsibility for the blunder. If, however, the cause of the event is less direct, the situation more complicated, or the event more personally threatening, then we often fall into some form of non-acceptance behavior.
    Suppose you severely sprain an ankle while playing basketball on your lunch break at work. It’s right at the beginning of the spring climbing season, and you had been training hard for an upcoming climbing trip. Now, you’ll be on crutches for six weeks. This feels like a terrible stroke of bad luck, a real injustice. You spend hours at a time wishing that the injury hadn’t happened. You blame “stupid ball sports” for causing the injury. You even secretly blame your co-workers for persuading you to play basketball. You mope around,