Photo: Bruach na Frithe by Swiv
When I began to learn how to snowboard, I took a tutorial from an instructor hired by the ski resort where I was staying. This 19-year-old snowboarding savant had already boarded on hundreds of peaks in most countries with mountains. His face bore the deep-tanned, weathered look of a slope lover, having allowed intense high-altitude sun rays to claim his exposed skin. A huge gap divided his wide smile; he'd recently had his top front teeth knocked
out during a boarding competition in Europe. While he had lost a couple of teeth, he'd found his ultimate boarding "zone" there. He shared his tale with us about reaching a higher level, almost spiritual, with his passion and avocation.
He had three of us to teach on the mountain. We stared at him, a boarding Jedi young in age yet possessing a wisdom of eons. We listened. We rose to standing, and we attempted to make a run. We all fell down, repeatedly.
Even after many rounds of gravitational frustration, we continued to try to board. He was so concerned that each of us had at least one brilliant run. We continued to fall, tumbling down the mountain as we attempted to stand back up. He was discouraged but still enthusiastic, and took this lesson even more seriously with each of our stumbles. The zen master would not abandon his young-in-boarding-spirit monks.
He stopped and looked up at the mountain peak. After staring at it briefly, he turned back and gazed at us: soaked through, cheeks raw from the wind, searching for ways to squeeze the melted snow out of our gloves and hats, hoping to get warm soon, completely spent.
He then sat us down and said, very quietly, looking into each of our eyes, "Be the mountain. BE the mountain."
Something clicked. We waited for a few moments, then I got up again and started to laugh. For the first time that day, I started to board and didn't fall.
As I slid, slowly as a frozen snail, down the mountain, our teacher screamed behind me, "That's it! Be the mountain! BE THE MOUNTAINNNNN!!!!!!!", throwing his fists high in the air in victory. With his encouragement, I felt like I was winning an Olympic gold medal.
For those of you preparing to embark upon National Novel Writing Month, I offer you this most heart-felt cheer:
BE THE FIRST DRAFT, Wrimos! BE THE FIRST DRAFT!!!!!!!!!!
Thanks to Sharon and her muse Evangeline for pulling this tale from memory.