Our Lady of Perpetual Astonishment

you’re up against a wall of rock on four toes and several fingertips, further from the ground than you’d care to notice, relieved to take a breath as you steady for the next reach. looking for holds is like looking for seashells: most that look good are incomplete, not quite enough. natural formations. you squander energy, myriad muscles tensed, exploring one hand at a time. later your buddies will say you think too much. now, right now, you have to breathe again. sometimes a little spring is necessary. a hop from three points so that your fourth can make a distance. up a natural wall. this isn’t the fear you had expected. there was a climber who told you that her first several descents had her vomiting as she reached the ground again. that isn’t what you’re going for, but it might not matter. breathe. your most ancient knowledge is telling your body of danger. that is not this moment, no matter the distance between you and an idea of safety. the problem is in right front of you. you’re breathing. you’ve got this. now. you’re here of only your own strength. it’s not too far. reach.