Forgetting What is Petty

A few months ago I went to Reimer’s Ranch with SIRA, a park near Dripping Springs. This was my first time doing anything with the organization and looking back, I regret not taking more of an advantage of such a group. It was a fairly small group of whom, for me, were fellow southwestern students whom I had not met a single one. The exception was a woman who I had told off in one of my classes a few years back—well, told off is a bit of an understatement—there were words thrown around. She was in a group project and didn’t do a thing. And when I say that, I do mean precisely that, not even showing up to our meetings. And so it was a bit of an awkward situation, for it was fairly clear that we both remembered this event. There was added awkwardness for we each held each other’s lives in our hands—you see, this was my first time going outdoor rock climbing, and I assure you, it is a horse of a different color. If you fall, there is nothing locking you in place. If the belayer is not paying close enough attention, the rope can slip through the tiny piece of metal and not stop until you hit the ground thirty feet below. And there’s no pad to land on, no rubber of foam—you’ve got dirt and rocks to pick from. So here I was, halfway up a cliff, with this woman, whom, I’ll admit, I rather passive-aggressively called a few names from a distance, controlling my fate. It’s hard for me to explain why exactly, but it actually felt pretty wonderful. There’s something about moving past petty differences, especially when it’s on a scale of life and death. Placed in such a situation, literally looking back down at the ground, it makes you realize what is important. Sure, there is always safety gear, but that is irrelevant, or at least it seems like it when you’re up there.
On this trip, I also realized that the guy leading it had, what I consider to be, the perfect job. He works for Georgetown Parks and Rec and also teaches an FRA on campus, which I plan to take when offered. There was something about the guy that was entirely genuine, which was fairly refreshing. He was clearly just doing what he loved to do, and intensely passionate and happy because of it. There has always been a part of me that has hesitated with coming to terms with potentially and actually having a job like this. I think ultimately, it revolves around a fairly outdated and superficial notion of prestige, which this trip helped me get past.