Newsletter 7 July/Aug 2010

Tuolumne

Amazingly, in my past 36 years, not a single summer has gone without experiencing the magic of Tuolumne Meadows. For the last several years, I’ve been camping right next to the river. From the viewpoint that I have at the camp, many natural elements come into play that allow me to reflect on and appreciate my sense of belonging.

Camp has enhanced my own thoughts about connecting to the realities of nature. On most mornings, I wake up before the sun and build a fire. I sit at the camp table, make coffee while enjoying the comfort of the fire, simply observing the changing light bringing in the new day. This has become a profound experience which was inspired by my friend Corbin Harney, a Shoshone elder who passed away a couple of years ago. I visited him a few times at Tecopa Hot Springs where he had a healing center. Every morning he would do this – go out and make his fire before the light, and sing songs with his drum and bring in the new day as the sun rose.

I am realizing while watching these sunrises myself that this is a powerful time of day to acknowledge the beauty of the world we live in, and how it’s taking care of us. In a way, I feel I am finding my personal connectedness that seems to give me more energy and a stronger foundation to what it means to be human. It’s difficult to put such feelings and emotions into words, but these are some of the challenges we address at Sacred Rok.

Starting next week, I am going to get to share this experience with some of the Sacred Rok youths from Merced who will be at this camp, and I am excited about the opportunity. Four guys from probation will be coming up next week, and the following week, we will have a dozen boys and girls from foster care. Katie will be the camp manager, and for the foster kids trip, Nancy and Kenji will take their family summer vacation up here with us to help out.

The river is still flowing pretty fast. The wet winter put quite a snowpack up there, adding to the Lyell Glacier which hopefully will help it survive a bit longer in this period of global warming. The water here is amazing — so near the source of the flow, part of the natural cycle of water moving through mother earth. This water that flows right by the camp, coming from the snowpack that was created by the winter storms from the Pacific, continues down Tuolumne Canyon. The water flows into the Hetch Hetchy reservoir, and is piped to the Crystal Springs Reservoir right through Redwood City where I grew up. I grew up drinking this very water that flows by me, reminding me of the great cycle of life.

In many ways, I was not that different from the Sacred Rok kids, never feeling like formal schooling was right for me, which is how I came to choose the path of education through nature, exploring its laws and order. This is also why I so enjoy connecting these young people to the meaning of the great circle of water. I am thankful for all that water provides us, and treat it with respect, every sip I take, every note I hear of the harmony that the river plays as it flows by me 24 hours a day.

My other ritual I want to share with them is the fire I make every morning as I appreciate the sunrise. From the campsite, the sun rises across the river. The metal campfire ring serves as a kind of instrument that allows me to mark the movement of the sun. It rises noticeably further to the south as the summer days go by, so that if I were to notch a mark, it would form a kind of sundial. I was talking about this with Kenji, and we marveled at how we were performing a microcosm of enormous human tributes to the sun, such as the Mayan pyramids of Chitzen Iza and Stonehenge. Between the changes in the arc of the sun and the flow of the water, we have a clock of nature that teaches us valuable lessons. We have to listen for those lessons, with awe.

Up in Tuolumne, I get to go visit old climbs and boulders, and I never tire of them. I might even say that the more familiar I become, the more I appreciate not only the beauty of the area but the continuing education that it brings. Each climb makes my body adjust differently, influences my breathing, shifts my psyche in a unique way. These are the new dimensions of climbing to me. Because the season in Tuolumne is so short, I appreciate these meditative moments even more.

From all these seasons and opportunities to move into some kind of harmony with the place, I see the parallels with our explorations with Sacred Rok on the philosophical plane, something that I hope to share with you in the coming months. I will not be getting these kids into climbing for a while yet, but I look forward to getting our natural curriculum to them through walk, talk, and time.

Newsletter 6 June 28th, 2010

Newsletter 6 -June 2010

Summer has arrived in Yosemite, bringing with it huge throngs of visitors. As you may know, I show my movie Return to Balance: A Climber’s Journey on the weekends at the Visitor’s Center and get to interact with lots of folks in the dialog after that. Lots of questions about rock climbing for sure, but I also get questions that make me feel honored because they resonate to the deeper meaning of the movie, which is that through my dedication to the ways of a rock climber, I have come to appreciate the deep harmony of human existence with the laws of nature. The movement of your body through physical space requires the coming together of your body and psyche with the spirit of the natural world.
I’m fascinated by how much my own appreciation of climbing has been inspired by the writings of the founder of Aikido, Morihei Ueshiba and his student, Mitsugi Saotome. I have been carrying around Ueshiba’s inspiring book Art of Peace with me for years. Here’s what I wanted to share with you, from Saotome’s book, Aikido and the Harmony of Nature:
Regarding the basis of Aikido, he writes in his Preface:

“Aikido movement must be understood from its roots deep in universal law. Its goal is to promote a deeper understanding and appreciation of the perfection of nature’s balance, and to bring humanity back into harmony with God. I want to create in each person’s mind a vivid flashback into our beginnings. I want to draw from your subconscious mind the memory of the very beginning of life and the struggle between time and space of the incredible evolution of humanity. I want you to feel the beauty and power of that evolution and give thanks to the Divine Creator.”
Substitute “Aikido” with “climbing”, and if you are uncomfortable with “God”, just use “our being”, and you see why I find it so meaningful.
Saotome also describes so well the understanding about the balance between nature and society, a value that we wish so much to nurture in our youth through their trips to Yosemite:
“In our selfishness we forget the delicate balance of the dependence of one life form on all others. If everyone applied to nature’s resources a conservation born of respect, love and understanding, and used them with an attitude of sincere thanksgiving to God, nature would be protected and the quality of life enriched. By protecting nature we protect society. By protecting society we protect ourselves. If nature is destroyed, the most fundamental requirement for survival is destroyed. To survive, we must nourish our body. If there is no food, if the water and the air are contaminated, there is no life, no society.”

These are extremely high aspirations to have for our program, but we want nothing less. It stands much like a tall mountain in the far distance that we are setting out to climb. Getting there will require much perseverance, route finding, creek crossings, tricky traverses, and technique. So we continue to take our baby steps, bringing groups of kids for day trips and camping experiences.
Since the last newsletter, I’ve had the privilege of a hosting a few more trips with the Merced County Probation youths, and another trip with kids in foster care. I have been busy learning through these experiences how best to move up the mountain. What I have learned so far I have to say is the role of simplicity, not complexity, in developing the clarity of the senses.

California King Snake

The best moments have come in listening to the water, taking in expansive views of the high Sierras, or encountering a Mountain King snake. In the presence of natural beauty, we appreciate the power of slowing down and having the time to recognize the senses, clearing them out in order to gain balance. Our challenge at Sacred Rok is figuring out how to get this quality experience, while still recognizing that what society wants is to take this experience, scale it up and make it go faster.
Facing that pressure, let me retreat to my Aikido master, Ueshiba Morihei, who wrote in The Art of Peace: “The only cure for materialism is the cleansing of the six senses (eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind). If the senses are clogged, one’s perception is stifled. The more it is stifled, the more contaminated the senses become. This creates disorder in the world, and that is the greatest evil of all. Polish the heart, free the six senses and let them function without obstruction, and your entire body and soul will glow.”
In my life as a rock climber, this is the spirit that has kept me balanced, moving into new dimensions of climbing. When I finally climbed Magic Line, the hardest climb of my life, I needed to connect my senses to the natural harmony of the place. I had worked on the climb for many months repeating and working on every move. I remember the cold day walking up the trail to the route, trying to clear myself of the stresses that had been accumulating perhaps because of the confusion of my ego. What I really needed was to free myself of these complicated thoughts. I was only successful because I was able to let go of any confusion about why I wanted to do the climb and simply allow all of my senses to engage in the reality of each move as it unfolded harmoniously.

Ron Kauk climbing "Magic Line"

Newsletter 5 May 25th, 2010

At this time of the year, the water is running, working its magic of renewal, energy and life. What a privilege it is for me to sit in the Valley and witness its power. The water goes through the ritual that it has performed for thousands of years — melting from the snow in the high country, running down the channels through the waterfalls into the valley, and flowing into the Central Valley giving life to the world below. There used to be a large lake, I am told, in the Central Valley. The lake teemed with fish and wildlife until agriculture drained all that and converted it into what we know today as our food basket.

I grew up downstream, all the way down in the Bay Area, where I used to take all this for granted. Water would flow from the Sierras through enormous pipes into the Crystal Springs Reservoir. I would drink this water, eat the food produced by the valley, and wonder the mysteries of the mountains. I fortunately committed to the life of a climber early in life, and have enjoyed the privilege of witnessing the seasons as I explored the vertical world. I do not take this privilege for granted.

To express my feelings about water, I am sharing some pictures I have been taking this past month of that wonderful force that runs through my life. It gushes through in the late spring and early summer, tapers off in the late summer. Winter brings a beautiful ice show, and then the spring starts it all over again. I am so amazed as I ponder the pulse of the water. The rock sits there, carved by the ice and washed by the water, caressed by the wind, baked by the sun. Right now, the water is gushing, expressing the force of the snow up above, already responding to the warmth of the sun.

These pictures are for you. They serve as my inspiration, and this is what I want to impart to the youth who come up to visit us at Sacred Rok.

Ron

P.S. As I was taking them, my friend Kenji was flying 30,000 feet above on his way back from Denver to San Francisco and took the aerial pictures that show the power of the snow up there, and the flow of the water.

Newsletter 4 April 25th, 2010

Expanding Collaborations

From Ron Kauk, Executive Director

Part of my maturation and what I learn from the higher education I get through Yosemite is the appreciation of collaboration with diverse people. I used to collaborate mostly on climbing projects, but now my collaborations are expanding, such as through Sacred Rok.

A few weeks ago, I had an interesting day collaborating with four young men who are spending time in juvenile detention at Merced County, taking them around the valley. For now, until their time with probation is officially over, I will not identify them by name except by their first name initials – call them E.J.J.B. In any event, E.J.J.B. came up to visit with me for a day, escorted by George Garcia from the Probation Department who connects well with them.

We met in the morning at the El Portal Market, where I supplied them with backpacks and Patagonia parkas which were donated to us. We picked up some sandwiches, and went to the Cookie area, which I call my dojo where I work on my breathing going up familiar climbs. We walked slowly up to the cliff, and then I showed them my practice routine of moving up the rock. They quickly began feeling comfortable in the surroundings, moving some loose logs to sit comfortably while I went through my short demo. I went up, came down, and we talked. We could hear, as always, the sound of the Merced River down below, even though the sound is different depending on the time of year.

I wanted to take them next to the water, so we next stopped at Cascade Falls. One of them took a bold jump to a rock across the creek, made it, but then had a hard time trying to get back, eliciting laughter and reactions from the others. One simple lesson. It all felt natural, working to be themselves in this unfamiliar environment.

We next stopped at Fern Spring, where I always practice my ritual of honoring the Valley. I talked to them about the respect that I show for the place. We washed our faces, and drank the water.

El Cap meadow was next, where we stopped to have lunch. One of the guys kept leading us until we got to the riverbank in the shade of the trees. This was a relaxing place to sit, eat, and visit. The light and air felt special, this being early spring – it is always different depending on the time of year. One guy talked about his residence, waking up in the small cinderblock walls with no windows. I said these are my walls that I live in. We kind of laughed about it, subdued because we acknowledged the reality.

Looking up at El Cap, George made a comment that everyone absorbed: “No matter who you are, rich or poor, good or bad, you still got this,” as he was looking at El Cap. We all resonated to his humble tone. His words spoke to me because I instantly remembered how as a youth coming into the valley, how we really had to approach the rock with humility and sense of awe to give yourself force and discipline to make it up that 3000 foot rock safely.

My mind wandered to my youthful days. I pictured myself jumaring up a rope suspended 2000 feet above the valley floor in what they call the Cyclop’s Eye on the North American Wall. Connected by a single rope, connected by trust. That was a climb that started on a sunny and warm February day of a drought year when, during our second day on the wall, the first snowstorm of the year came in. We protected ourselves with some plastic tarp on Big Sur Ledge, made some tea. When the storm cleared, we struggled with icy ropes as we continued climbing. Then on the sixth day of the climb, another storm came in. We were saved by coming to a cave called the Igloo above Cyclop’s Eye, where we hunkered down to wait out the storm. The cave kept us dry. As the storm continued, the three of us made a monumental effort to finish the climb, struggling with the wet, icy cold conditions. This situation provided us with a test — a test that took all the technique and common sense that we had, working together. This took us all day to climb the last 300 feet. When got to the top, the storm was finally starting to clear. I remember the beautiful sunset as the skies were clearing, and felt a powerful presence of nature, of vulnerability and respect. We got a fire going at the top, creating a deep feeling of rejuvenation with its warmth. This experience, which went through my mind as the six of us stood in El Cap meadow, really spoke to the state of mind of a teen, ready for challenges and adventure, and what a good positive experience that was. I felt that George channeled my thoughts exactly: “No matter who you are, rich or poor, good or bad, you still got this.”

After lunch, admiring El Cap from a distance,       we wandered up to its base. Once there, they spontaneously touched the rock at the base.

We went over to the Visitor’s Center where I showed them the Miwok site for ceremonies, connecting them to the native realities of the area.

Some ice cream, a bouldering demo in the Camp 4 area, and then a walk to lower Yosemite Falls wrapped up the day. Even though we went to a lot of places, none of it felt rushed, and it allowed them to soak in the possibilities – the inspiration, creativity, abundance of Yosemite. I felt that even in this single day, we created a circle, developed a level of respect and equality that seemed to be important for all of us to feel the friendship and nurturing of relationships.

Yosemite is a special place, a powerful teacher and healer for the human psyche. It is the dojo where the art of being is practiced. I have never quite put it this way, but this day allowed me to appreciate the realization. Because of this day — not being in a rush and energized by the place, with each person being able to say whatever — we generated a circle and acknowledgement beyond words, from which we continue to draw strength.

We moved through the day together, sometimes going off on our own, other times coming together to take pictures and to share our inspirations.

A few days later, I visited them at their temporary “home” – officially called the Iris Garrett Juvenile Justice Correctional Complex – to check in on the visit. My friend Kenji also wanted to meet them to hear what impressions they took away from the day in Yosemite. So the six of us sat around a table in a windowless room at the facility, the sound of our voices echoing off the painted cinderblock walls. Mostly, the conversation can be characterized by the glow of warm feelings that remained from the day in Yosemite. They could hardly believe that they were chosen for the hike, and wanted more (we look forward to them…they will have another opportunity later in the month for a day hike, and then later in June, an overnight camping trip). When Kenji pressed them for words to describe how the trip was, simple warm words like “amazing”, “fantastic”, “joyful” came tumbling out. E. was simply lost for words, and said “what they all said” with a big smile, and they all laughed, the laughter echoing from the walls. They recounted their experience jumping over the river, walking to the base of El Cap and to lower Yosemite Falls, all described with positive emotion and sensation. These little experiences keep leading us to the next baby step.

As we left, Kenji handed them his card with his cell phone number on it, and I also wrote down my number to let them know to call us any time. We encouraged them to write their thoughts and stories to share with others, because we wanted to learn from them. We feel that we have life-long collaborators in these four young men, and look forward to learning more from what they are learning. They are the keepers of the rejuvenation of society, and putting nature into the fuel of their energy is how we hope to move us to the next step.

Newsletter 3 March 28th, 2010

Earlier this month, we (Kenji and I) had the privilege of giving a talk about Sacred Rok at the Stanford Alpine Club. This is a great group of young people who inherit a rich history, going back to the days when Tom Frost was a student at Stanford.

We advertised our talk with the headline: “Ron and Kenji working on a climbing project? That sounds like a ridiculous idea to anyone who knows their backgrounds. Ron Kauk is known as a rock climber for whom it is a way of life. Kenji Hakuta is known as a professor of education and policy wonk, but he can barely make it up a 5.10. Working on a climbing project? If that sounds strange, come find out!”

That was our trailer message. We wanted to throw our collaboration into the public sphere, in a safe environment where we knew we would have a sympathetic audience (Kenji is, after all, a professor there), and to use it as an occasion where we could bring our narrative together, at least to the next step.

We had a good showing of people, including some friends from outside of Stanford, for which we were grateful – since our announcement said that we were talking about this collaboration, we had put it out there that this would not be a normal Ron’s climbing slides and videos talk. As with anything where you go into the unknown, we had our insecurities about attendance, you might say, as we spent time on the slide show nervously pulling together our pictures and story.

We got a pretty good narrative together. Kenji introduced the show saying that this is a work in progress, that we had never talked about this publicly before, and here we go. Kenji said that we consider ourselves accomplished in our respective fields – Ron in climbing, Kenji in education, and that we wanted to do something together that would do something beyond more of the same.

We had pre-arranged about 200 slides to move at 8 seconds per slide, and we just let them run in the background as we talked. Ron started by talking about his climbing history, accompanied by slides showing his presence in the magazines and films by the climbing industry. He talked about the expectations of the industry on climbers, and contrasted what it was like then, and what it is like now.

The slides then switched to pictures of Kenji starting up UC Merced, something that he did when he left his secure job at Stanford (and subsequently returned to after 3 years). Kenji talked about the fun of starting a new university, but the institutional tugs that make it difficult to do new and innovative things because of expectations about the “organization” (in this case, academia and the UC system). We talked about the parallels between the “climbing” and the “university” industries, what they want you to do, and what it takes to establish yourself within them.

Kenji then showed slides of why he climbs and hangs out in nature – the beauty and the companionship of important people, including his son Luis (who was in the audience).

Ron showed his slides of nature that he has been taking in Yosemite, wowing the audience with the beauty of water, rocks, and light. We interspersed pictures of Ron taking pictures, with Kenji joking that Ron was training to become the cross between John Muir and Ansel Adams (no kidding!)

Ron and Kenji then talked about the collaboration, how it evolved over time, using the organizational energy of Nancy (Kenji’s wife) to form a non-profit, took foster kids to Yosemite, and our plans.

We ended the show with our draft logo of a T-shirt that Ron’s friend, an artist with much experience in these matters, had drafted – something to inspire the kinds of kids we hope to inspire.

We have a summary of our slide show up on YouTube – check it out 

After the talk, there were excellent questions, sharing and interest – about personal experiences, involvement with different efforts to get kids out there, and even a few “huh?” looks.

One thread that kept coming up was whether we had any kind of “curriculum” in mind, besides sitting by a river or a boulder. Without a curriculum, how would be expect to affect more than just the few kids that we take on trips? That is one big and important question.

What exactly is our curriculum, our formal course of study?

Kenji’s colleague at Stanford, Guadalupe Valdés, specializes in the teaching of foreign and second languages, and she actually talks about the problems of what she calls the “curricularization of language”. What she means by this mouthful of syllables is that when language teachers teach language, they notice things that don’t sound right – a student of English says “I didn’t say nothing”, to which the teacher instantly wants to correct it as “I don’t say anything.” Then all this becomes part of the curriculum, something to teach explicitly. The real question is, is language like any subject matter, like math or science, which needs a curriculum? Or is language, as part of the human fabric of communication, something that should be taught as a means rather than an object?

What those questions were evoking was whether the way of nature is something that can be “curricularized” or whether it is more like language — a way of thinking, feeling and relating.

We pretty much think that Guadalupe is showing us how to think about the education of nature – that it is not about encapsulating it into curricular units to be dispensed through education, but felt and appreciated and nurtured.

Imagine a curriculum of nature in which trees are to be appreciated. The path can be to read about trees, classify them, draw them, and appreciate their genetic structure. Another path is to be handed a sapling, with the assignment being to make it live and thrive.

What these conversations made us realize is that we have been on this path of nature. What remains is the challenge of how this insight can stir others into thinking in parallel and resonant ways.

Ron and Kenji

Newsletter 2 February 21, 2010

From Ron Kauk:

February 21, 2010. El portal. Hello from Yosemite, where we have had intermittent spring-like conditions for climbing, yet just enough rain to keep the water flowing. In our last newsletter, we wrote about our project on how the beauty and appreciation of nature can be found even in the easiest of climbs, by focusing on breathing. It is as if in every climb, there is an element of learning the simple parts all over again, even as we walk to the climb. Every day, we learn to walk.

Every day I am struck by new insights that come about when we think of the world in terms of its simple elements. Here is a new one.

Yesterday, I introduced my friends Kenji and Nancy to Les and Bill, first nation people of the Miwok tribe whose lineage has been here for all of human memory. Les and Bill have been actively involved in keeping the original ways of ceremony that is connected to their responsibility of taking care of Yosemite and all of its natural elements.

For many years, I have been given the privilege of being a helper of the ceremonies. This experience has been at the core of my on-going education. Les in particular is keenly interested in reviving the Miwok language, which is on the verge of extinction. How do you revive a language that has just one or two speakers? I wanted Les to meet Kenji because Kenji is a linguist and knows about these things.

We talked for a long time about what to do in terms of education to bring back some of the Miwok language. We talked about the role that language plays in culture. Linguists go about recording, documenting, and writing about the dying languages, but what can they do if the community wants to bring it back? What if a biologist, instead of putting the last specimens into  a plant press, were to put them into a nursery? What kind of nursery would we want?

A nursery of this kind is now being made possible for the Miwok language through an amazing property arrangement in which a portion of Yosemite Valley has been set aside for native ceremonial and educational purposes. Les wants the educational purpose to be the revival of the language. So, Kenji and Les talked about what it means to revive a language, what it means to talk, the most basic element of human being.

Talk means many things, because language does so many things for us – it brings order to the mind, it helps communicate with others, and through stories and songs, it builds culture. We talked about all of these things and Kenji helped put these into what it could mean in terms of an educational curriculum – what kinds of goals, and how to get there.

But in the end, after all this talk, Kenji asked Les, “What does language mean to you?” and Les  replied, “ It’s the bringing of people together. The Miwok, the Chukchansi, language brings the people of the language together, and it brings the native people together.” As the language has been reduced to the remnants of a few words and phrases, Les was pointing to the sadness of the silence for the community.

Words, phrases, songs. These elements of talk are what Les sees as necessary to the rebuilding of the native community. I was struck by the parallels with the inspiration of Sacred Rok, where breathing, walking, and mindful appreciation of nature are the key elements for restoring our sense of nature. Learning to talk. Learning to walk. Perhaps we can start bringing some of these things together. The conversational sphere created on this day resonates deep into what connects all of us as human beings.

Also see Ron’s audio dispatch on Patagonia’s blog “The Cleanest Line”