Will McDonald
Revised LR Midterm
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. My mind enters a
meditative state when I’m climbing.
When I am fully engaged in the rock, the stress and 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 several 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 describe
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
After I realized that not all aspects of climbing are selfish
and fleeting, I began to more seriously consider this vision. As I did so, I quickly uncovered several
more problems. In my Learning Record
final after my first semester in this course, I wrote that, “It is
critical that I succeed in establishing a sense of place for myself,” and
stressed that I could not be happy at this university unless I felt that I
belonged. Strangely enough, by taking a
semester off and leaving
I’ve lived in
One of the primary goals in this course is to develop a sense
of place and belonging. Without a
doubt, I have achieved this, but I now wonder if it will impede my chances to
succeed in my vision. Sadly, the
resources and land to support a life of adventure guiding and writing are not
available in
Recently, I read a commencement speech that Jon Stewart gave. 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 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 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, my 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?
Despite the confident tone of this essay, I’m often overwhelmed by anxiety and uncertainty. I believe that I have a predisposition to be anxious, and that I will never be able to silence all the heckling voices within me. Instead of hushing my anxiety, I think I must learn to rationally recognize it and not be scared. 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.
The most important conclusion that I’ve drawn from this essay is not that I must climb harder or write better. Instead, it’s what Jon Stewart said. 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.