The Rock Warrior's Way: Mental Training For Climbers

than we actually do. There are many lessons to learn, and we’re never sure ahead of time exactly what lesson we’re learning. The warrior wants to preserve his life and continue on the journey, but he also knows he must take risks in order to explore life.
    If “right” and “wrong,” “good” and “bad,” can’t guide us, how can we choose? If falling off and spraining an ankle might be “better” in the long run than avoiding that fall, shouldn’t we just throw ourselves into experience and hope for the best? If we can’t know beforehand, why should we bother putting so much thought and energy into assessing risk and making conscious choices?
    If you go to Italy but don’t understand any Italian, you won’t learn as much about Italian life and culture as you would if you spoke the language. The same applies with risks and yourself. If you don’t understand the components of the risk you’re facing, your learning will be commensurately limited. Avoiding “good” and “bad” doesn’t mean you should adopt an attitude of total relativism or ambivalence. The problem, rather, is that those particular words have baggage. They are constructions of the Ego. We tend to use those words based on whether an event made or will make us comfortable. The Ego is impatient. We’re too likely to attach “good” and “bad” to the immediate impact of events. We forget that “good” may set us on a collision course with misfortune and that “bad” may be a saving grace. By judging events in such a black-and-white manner, we dishonor and dismiss the subtleties and richness of experience.
    There is, however, a guidance system for the warrior in lieu of good/bad, right/wrong. The warrior calls it the heart . To follow the path with heart is to follow a kind of very personal “good,” one that is more open, humble, and attentive to the deeper workings of the universe where we ultimately draw our strength and energy. “Good” and “bad” appear to us when we’re responding to Ego-based, external motivation. The path with heart appears to us when we are infused with a love-based, internal motivation. Loving what you do, being in touch with what you truly value, will help you make choices in any area. A path with heart is essential when making choices about risk. A possibly dangerous choice should not be made carelessly. It must be aligned with a person’s innermost predilections, stripped of the dangerous and superficial trappings of the Ego and self-delusion. Love-based motivation creates a situation without regret. When you make a choice, you choose to live life the way you most want to live it. Only when you’re functioning in such a mode can you summon the near-magical power of 100-percent commitment.

    The difference between flailing uselessly and moving up the rock often comes down to commitment. This climber’s body is poised and in balance, executing the mind’s commands, her self-talk quietly positive, eyes focused on the task. Photo: Jim Thornburg

    Falls — such as this one at Lookout Mountain, Tennessee – are part of climbing, and the best way to develop your aerial skills is to practice. Photo: Jonathan Hollada
    Investigating Falling
    Falling, perhaps because of its dynamic and counterintuitive nature, seems to be a stronghold of phantom fear and deserves some extra focus in our discussion of choice-making.
    Our goal is to create a clear set of choices that will yield simple, yes/no answers about what we are willing to risk. Most climbers will decide that some falls are safe enough to take, while others are too risky. In Choices, our focus is on putting our money where our mouth is, fully accepting a fall that we say we’re willing to accept.
    In practice, such acceptance is no easy feat for some climbers. People who begin climbing in a gym and on sport climbs often become accustomed to taking lead falls. They learned how to fall safely when they were still relative beginners. People who learn to climb on traditional crags, however, are generally more conservative about taking lead falls. They first needed to learn how to place solid gear, and they also climbed on lower-angled terrain where falls are more dangerous. The habit of resisting falling tends to linger, even when you know how to place solid gear and climb on steeper rock. Fear of falling is very common, even among sport climbers, and it is not caused by simple fear of injury. Falling involves a feeling of losing control.