it was a pool and it was a metaphor

Upper Calf Creek FallsĀ is in Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, which is currently on the legislative chopping block, and which makes the Roman Forum look like it was built just last week.


She had just told us thatĀ her career had moved forward in bursts of bravado.


The bravado was only there in those bursts, but it was there enough of the time to move things forward. And she’d be scared in-between, but that was ok.

Later that day we hiked to Upper Calf Creek Falls.

I wasn’t really interested in going in to the icy snowmelt sludge water… but when the three of them got out, they were so rejuvenated and alive. Again, it’s the lesson of: it’s not doing the thing but how you feel after doing the thing (which is the argument that got me to start meditating three years ago). So I ooched my way in. I got up to my waist and said, “I think I’m good.” But ooched a little further.

“Do I have to go all the way in?” I yelled up to where they were all warm and dressed on the shore.

“Yes!” they yelled back.

And because bravado is a force you can harness, and because discomfort is sometimes the gatekeeper for great things, I “motherfucker-motherfucker-motherfuckered” my way up to my neck.

Getting out was a kind of magical transfusion.



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