Will McDonald
LR Final
At age three I
scaled the side of my family’s piano.
Shortly thereafter I graduated to climbing my dad’s bookshelves and then
set my sights on increasingly taller trees in the 
neighborhood. On my first day of kindergarten, I pulled
myself up the rope in P.E. class all the way to the ceiling of the gym. My classmates and teacher were boggled. At age eight I finally reached the summit of
the largest pecan tree in the neighborhood.
It was a glorious feat. In
middle school, shortly after reading Into Thin Air, I convinced an older
cousin to take me rock climbing. I’ve
been hooked ever since.
For me, climbing is much more than just a hobby; it is an all-encompassing passion. It motivates me like nothing else ever has. In high school, my parents were always amazed that when I was going climbing, I could easily awaken at five in the morning, chipper, coherent, and ready to go—even before a cup of coffee. My mind enters a meditative state when I’m climbing. When I am fully engaged in the rock, the static that usually clouds my head is replaced by clarity and happiness. During stressful days, I like to go to a nearby park and climb for a little while before I start studying. It is incredibly therapeutic. My mind focuses solely on the rock, and I feel no stress about my exams. This feeling of exhilaration and mental clarity, coupled with my love of the outdoors, drives my passion for rock climbing.
In high school, academics ruled my life. I had friends and hobbies, but my age and scholastic obligations limited my lifestyle. I accepted the importance of these obligations and decided to embrace them fully. I worked hard in my classes and did well. All the while I assured myself that after I graduated I would take a year to be free from obligations and to live differently.
My
plan was to defer college admission for a year, and, along with my best friend,
spend the time driving through 
scholarship
that did not allow for deferred admission.
I could not find another willing partner, and, with my plans crushed, I
decided to attend UT Austin in the fall.
I felt out of
place at the university, and soon I realized that I needed to do something
else. I wrote in a World Literature
journal about “my fear that I’ve given up on my dreams by not taking a year off
to enjoy myself and climb.” During 
that
semester in school, I formed a belief that happiness alone is at the root of a
successful life. Several readings in
the class heavily influenced my thoughts, and I resolved to go to “the other
side of the hedge,”[1] so that I
could become the “truant boy…roaming the countryside, nursing [my] project in
unclouded joy.”[2]
After that first
semester, I set out on a pilgrimage to find liberation by experiencing
happiness untainted by normal obligations and stress. Since I’d been planning a similar trip for 
years,
I had enough money saved to leave immediately.
I traveled alone, lived out of my car, and spent many weeks climbing and
exploring the vast geography of the western
As my travels and
introspection progressed, I discovered some problems in my resolution. The first problem arose when I saw the
selfishness inherent in a life devoted to climbing. When the famous mountaineer George Mallory was asked why he
wanted to climb
My second problem
became more and more apparent each time I pulled into a gas station. Although I saved money for the trip, I’ve
never had the luxury of wealth, and soon my bank account began to dwindle. At one campground in
During the two semesters since, I’ve been mulling over my realizations and trying to resolve the conflict between my financial limitations, my love of climbing, and the egoism inherent in the sport. I believe now that I have “hammered my thoughts into unity” and have constructed a vision for my life that will allow me to quench my thirst to climb while avoiding the problems of economics and selfishness.[4] The two components of this vision will let me climb constantly, live above the poverty line, and utilize my experience and knowledge to enhance the lives of others.
The first part of my vision is to work as a climbing guide. This option is attractive because it allows me to spend my time climbing, and it pays better than living out of a van. Besides solving the financial problem, working as a climbing guide makes the sport much less ego-oriented. Over the last several years, I’ve spent my summers and weekends taking children and adults climbing. Although it takes years of training to be fully accredited as a mountain guide, my experience in the field thus far has yielded some insights. I’ve found that while guiding, I do not climb for myself. Instead, I focus on keeping my client safe and happy while simultaneously teaching him technical skills. Many people want to climb but do not have the knowledge to do so themselves. As a guide, I can help them achieve that goal.
I remember being
awestruck and inspired by the guides who first taught me to climb. I was so taken by what they did that it is
now my goal to do the 
same. Recently, I’ve spent my summers in
Even though I can’t learn to guide in my classes at the university, my time here is not wasted. My Plan II education will not lock me into a specific career path but will instead leave me with a strong foundation to pursue anything. I’ve found that some of my classes have helped me think in certain ways that benefit me as a climber and guide. While on a tall rock climb, I am constantly confronted with problems that I must solve quickly and efficiently so that my partner and I can summit and descend before sunset or a storm. For example, I often have to build an anchor in the rock, keep two-hundred feet of rope organized at my feet, and hold my partner’s weight, all at the same time. In Plan II, Dr. Starbird’s math course has taught me to breakdown such complicated situations into small, manageable tasks that can be tackled individually to resolve the larger problem. Besides teaching me to think effectively, many of my classes focus on writing—a skill that is critical to the success of the other half of my plan.
The
second component of my vision is to write about my experiences as a climber. As a writer, I can convey rock climbing in a
way that is informative and entertaining.
One fascinating aspect of writing about climbing is that if a reader
will utilize his sympathetic imagination, he can experience the act of climbing
without ever leaving the couch. I would
of course prefer that readers actually get out there and do it, but I
understand that this is not always feasible.
Some people are physically unable to climb, and I think it’s great that
someone who might be handicapped or ill can understand and participate in the
experience through reading. It’s
impossible for me to go mountaineering in the
While I was working to build this vision, I sometimes found myself doubting that it could succeed. After one such episode, I read a commencement speech given by comedian Jon Stewart. In it, he addressed the future of the graduates and asked: “So how do you know what is the right path to choose to get the result that you desire?” He answered, “You won’t. And accepting that greatly eases the anxiety of your life experience.”[5] I found this to be a worthy nugget of wisdom, and I’ve tried to internalize it. Until recently, I never allowed myself to consider a career based around climbing because of the uncertainty of success and the pressure on me to do something else. After I read Jon Stewart’s speech, I decided to ignore these pressures and do what really makes me happy. It was then that I formed this vision for my future.
I imagine that some people will tell me that this vision is unrealistic or even absurd. They may tell me that I can’t make money guiding, and that I definitely can’t make money writing. They may say that I’m wasting a prestigious Plan II degree, and that I should do something respectable like going to law school and maybe running for public office. If you want to know the truth, I don’t give a damn. I know that to be successful I need only be happy, and I know this: “We don’t have to be anybody in particular. We don’t have to be ‘this’ or ‘that.’ We are free simply to be.”[6]
* * *
It’s been about a month since I first conceived this vision, and I must admit that I presented much of it with false confidence. Before this essay, I’d never sat down and outlined any sort of firm plan for my future. Of course I’d been asked the question, “Will, what are you going to do when you grow up,” but I’d never taken it too seriously. Usually I would dodge the issue by laughing and saying something like, “I’m gonna be a rock climber [sic],” or “I think I’ll just figure it out when I get there.” In this essay, I was once again asked to explain my plans for the future. This time I considered the question seriously, but the answer that I provided amounted to a lengthy version of what I’d always said: “I’m gonna be a rock climber.” Although my apprehension didn’t show in the paper, the answer scared me.
In the process of
writing the essay, I chose not to question my vision. If the uncertainty and doubt that often reigns in my head had
spilled over into the paper, I would have lost the clear voice with which I
wanted to write. My certainty made for
a well-written essay, but the questions are still lurking in my brain. What if you aren’t good enough to be a
guide? What if no one cares about your stories? What if this path doesn’t even
make you happy? As my doubts began to snowball and
grow in my mind, I discovered several more problems with my vision.
The first of these problems resulted from the strong sense
of place I have developed here in
I’ve lived in
Here in 
“Story of Texas” movie at the
“The vaquero language calls the place where an
animal is born or to which he shows a strong attachment” his querencia.[7] One of the primary
goals in this course is to develop a sense of place and an understanding of
one’s own querencia. Without a doubt, I
have achieved this, but I now wonder if it will impede my chances to succeed in
this vision. Sadly, the public
resources and land to support a life of adventure guiding and writing are no
longer available in
In addition to this conflict between my querencia and my vision, I discovered another problem when I re-read Ram Dass’s essay, “How Can I Help?” Despite my previous use of a quotation from Dass to support my vision, I began to suspect that he might be quite critical of my plan. Earlier in this essay, I stressed how my passion for rock climbing can often consume my life. This is true, but my life is really much more than just climbing. Still, whenever I’m asked to define who I am, I tend to find myself talking about climbing. After reading Dass again, I worried that I “deny [myself] and others the full resources of [my] being because [I’m] in the habit of defining” myself as a climber.[12] I have found ways to use my skills as a climber to enhance the lives of others, but perhaps I possess other undiscovered capabilities that could be equally fulfilling to me as well as beneficial to humanity. What if when I describe myself as a climber, I “cling to one dimension of [my] identity at the expense of others?”[13]
Even though I
often define myself as a rock climber, I do not believe that this definition
has stifled all other parts of me.
Although my vision is focused on climbing, it extends beyond the sport
and incorporates skills that I have developed in other aspects of my life. For example, during much of the year I live
in the heart of an urban area and am enrolled in school, but in the summers I
spend most of my time in a remote mountain valley. The Will McDonald who studies here in
Ram Dass points out that I probably possess undiscovered capabilities that will continue to lie dormant as long as I am limited by “any model of the self.”[14] In my case, I think that the focus I gain from a flexible model of myself is beneficial, because it helps me to continue developing the various skills for which I know I am naturally suited. Although a definition of self may prevent me from unearthing some unknown capabilities, it allows me to “hammer my thoughts into unity” by providing a loose framework to help fuse together my other capabilities. Still, the possibility remains that by classifying myself as a climber, I am hindering the discovery of other unknown passions and skills.
Despite the confident tone in parts of this essay, I’m often overwhelmed by anxiety and uncertainty. I’ve examined my family tree and found that many of my relatives have suffered from mental illness. Although I’m pretty sure I’m not schizophrenic, such tendencies certainly flourish in my gene pool. With this knowledge, it seems likely that I have a predisposition towards anxiety, and that I will never be able to silence all the heckling voices within me. Instead of continuing to try to hush my anxiety, I must learn to accept the unknown and not be scared.
Amidst this uncertainty, there is one absolute truth that I can cling to: I will never know everything. If I constantly remind myself of this, I believe I can “come into a deeper wisdom, which knows its place and accepts Not Knowing.”[15] Unless I can force myself to stop fearing the uncertainty in my head, I will always be partially paralyzed by my mind. I do not believe that I can accomplish my vision if I am crippled by my own emotions.
I’ve been working
on this vision for months now, and as I’ve resolved some problems, new dilemmas
and worries continue to emerge.
Throughout this process, I’ve realized that climbing can be a very
selfish pursuit, but that I can still use the sport to benefit and enrich
others. I’ve also realized that even
though I am passionate about climbing, I shouldn’t become so focused that I
lose sight of other aspects of myself.
In addition, I’ve uncovered a conflict between my connection to my home
in
Therefore, the most important conclusion that I’ve drawn from this essay is not that I must be a better writer or climbing guide. Instead, since I will never be certain about the future, the most important thing I’ve learned is that I must accept the persistent uncertainty of life. Both Jon Stewart and Ram Dass articulated this problem and came to the same conclusion: In order to be happy and have a chance at success, I must accept that I will never know what the right path is for me. This understanding alone can quell my anxiety and truly set me free.
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