Welcome to the Occupation.

This week, we dig out this absurd response I wrote for a job application. Pardon my repetition, but the adaptation made me laugh. Perhaps I didn't really want this job after all:

There are many important moments in a person’s life experience. Please tell us a story about one moment or experience that has affected your life and how it has helped you become the person you are today.

While I could write endlessly with the same amount of unrelenting enthusiasm I have about every single day spent in the outdoors, there is one recent day that stands out among the rest. This day wasn’t particularly unique, traumatic, or indicative of my future. It was a pretty generic Saturday in mid-October, aside from the remarkably good weather. Life for me was somewhat stressful with the impending reality of graduating college and becoming an adult in the traditional sense of the word.

In an attempt to decompress for a few hours, I made vague plans to go rock climbing with my climbing partner Jackson, much like every single day we’re in each other’s company. We had just gotten back from a perfect day of climbing that Friday evening, and as a result our motivation for another alpine start the next morning was significantly diminished. I knew that getting out of bed would bring a frigid tile floor under my feet and a severe lack of coffee in my stomach. And in fact, we must have had an unusually strong ability to telepathically communicate that morning, because we both slept until 10:30. Needless to say, we were not off to a good start for a day with weather as good as it was.

But, against all odds, we managed to not only drink coffee and eat a bagel, but also completely rack up and pack the car full of climbing gear. Celebratory high fives were exchanged as we peeled out of the dorm parking lot with a revived feeling of anticipation. Our objective was the Nose, a classic four-pitch line on Looking Glass Rock known to me for its amazing position among the Blue Ridge Mountains and proximity to my dorm room. The Nose is an often-guided climb because of its distinct cruxes, amazing views, and distinguishing “eye-brow” features. I’ve probably taken at least thirty groups there in the last six months just to climb the first pitch. It is probably still the best route I have ever climbed, and I savor the movement every single time I climb it, like bites from the sweetest strawberry imaginable.

We arrived at the base of the climb around 1 in the afternoon, giddy with excitement. Almost instantly we were flowing up the balance-intensive slab like we were seasoned North Carolina trad-masters. The transitions were quick and effortless and the 5.8 cruxes felt like walking. At every belay, we laughed with delight at the ease in which we were progressing. It seemed like just the day before we were fumbling with tangled ropes and dropped carabiners. I think I even heard Jackson cry, “DUDE! YES!” after cruising the notoriously delicate crux on his first try. Forgive my ineloquence, but we were stoked. We were the human manifestations of stoke, and it felt really, really good.

We got to the top of the climb in about an hour and half, a respectable time for such a late start. Immediately after exchanging some summit hugs, we sat down to eat the apples we were saving for the top. Without exaggerating, it was in this precise moment that I became the person I am today. Jackson and I sat down on top of Looking Glass and ate those apples in a blissful silence I had never felt before. It was a silence neither of us felt the need to break. There was not a single distraction from the reflections and realizations in our minds. It was so odd how just four or so hours before, I was sitting in my room wondering if it was going to be another boring Saturday spent milling around, snacking, and looking at pictures of other people rock climbing.

During my freshman year of college, my composition teacher gave me a letter given to him by a long-time friend and writer. At the time, it did not hold much weight or significance to me. I cast it aside, filing it away with all my other papers I’ve thought twice about throwing out from my years in school. But this past fall, I picked it up with a renewed interest and reshaped perspective. This letter is written to Seth, a recent college graduate, who harbors an assortment of uncertainties. Seth had been letting these uncertainties control his life and impede his true passion: writing. The author reassures Seth that life throws wrenches in the gears of every day, but things work out for the best. There’s no point, according to the author, in trying to teach yourself to write well. It just happens as a result of continuing to follow your passions. The author goes on to tell nostalgic stories of earlier years to provide some context for the wisdom being imparted. The whole letter is beautiful, and I treasure it every day. But the last line is one that struck me more than any other piece of writing ever has before: “One must get out of bed every morning and prepare for the great celebration of one’s own imagination, even if it doesn’t happen that day.”

In truth, the day Jackson and I climbed the Nose was a remarkably similar day to many others I’ve had while rock climbing: the sun was out, we had fun, I brought enough food and water, and I didn’t hurt myself. But that is exactly not the point. I realized on that Saturday in October that I had been living my life just as Seth had been living his. I was letting my uncertainties for the future impact the present moment. I wasn’t using my dreams as a template for every single day. It took getting out of bed on the most unlikely of mornings and climbing 400 feet up a cliff just to eat an apple for me to realize just how great a life I’ve got. If I can imagine the perfect day, there is no reason to sit around without at least trying to pursue its possibility. This particular afternoon in October will always be the experience I look back on as a pivotal moment in my growth as a friend, leader, and human.

I didn't get the job, but at least I got someone to consider the true sweetness of strawberries.

Here's a mixtape. It's about as bizarre as this job application. I recommend playing it in the car, on your next road trip, when the sun shines a bit too bright in your eyes. Or maybe just in the morning, during your first - and certainly not last - cup of coffee. Mom, I think you might like some of it, but maybe not.

https://www.dropbox.com/s/j9sozycdzk28vh6/On%20the%20road.zip

Riley.