Base Camp Is Not the Summit
It takes up to eight days to hike to Mt. Everest’s south base camp, which is located at an altitude of 17,900 feet. That seems high until you remember that the summit is at 29,000 feet. To reach that summit, climbers must make it past the Geneva Spur, the South Col and the aptly named death zone.
You don’t want to read this any more than I want to write it, but the November 2020 election was just base camp. To reach our summit, we must make it past our own obstacles, beginning with a combative lame duck President, his Secretary of State and a phalanx of foaming-at-the-mouth conspiracy theorists. And that’s only to reach our second base camp, which is a new administration.
Then the real climb begins. For racial justice, protected LGBTQ+ rights, real inclusion for all, a strong and just economy, a government with compassion… and a rebuilding of many bridges between roughly two halves of the population. We cannot lose strength or resolve. We cannot stop fighting just because we’ve hit the first waymark.
As it is in life, so it is in our creative practice.
I must confess to being one of those artists who tries to convince himself that the first draft is the finished product. Whether this is a result of the bump of dopamine that comes from “finishing” a piece, arrogance, laziness or a combination of them all, I don’t know. But it often takes me a bit of space to confess that my work needs revision. And, typically, major revision.
But that first iteration of any work really is only the base camp. To reach the summit, which in art is an always moving and perhaps never attainable target, we have to climb. And climb. And. Climb.
Keep in mind, creating art isn’t exactly digging ditches (unless you’re a land artist) and most of us do it because we love it and it’s fun even when it’s hard. But the push to the summit requires dogged commitment.
We have to leave our extraneous baggage at base camp — most notably, ego and any ideas of its cozy comfort. In his essay “The Black Boy Looks at the White Boy,” James Baldwin observed Norman Mailer’s brief dalliance with politics and wrote, “The price one pays for pursuing any profession or calling is an intimate knowledge of its ugly side."
Any artist who pursues their work seriously knows that this ugly side applies not only to the workings of it as an industry, but also the ugly personal side — the facing of demons and, we hope, the conquering of them. Baldwin told the Paris Review, “The whole language of writing for me is finding out what you don’t want to know, what you don’t want to find out. But something forces you to anyway.”
And so we find that the most challenging obstacle we face between base camp and summit, our own death zone, is the self and all its varied monsters and angels. We have to face our own fear of failure, our anger at systems and the perceived success of others. We have to push past pity parties, past doubters, trolls and know-it-alls.
As Roald Dahl put it, “You have to keep your bottom on the chair and stick it out. Otherwise, if you start getting in the habit of walking away when you’re stuck you’ll never get it done.”
When mountaineers train for climbs, they focus as much on mental training as physical. Here are three key traits for climbers that artists and citizens need in this moment.
Adaptability
Whether the summit we’re eyeing is finishing a painting, publishing a story, returning to touring or pushing for inclusive democracy, this is a required trait.
For a climber, inability to adapt to uncertain and highly changeable conditions can be fatal. They must be prepared for sudden and drastic weather changes, for injury, the effects of altitude, and more. Similarly, artists have to be ready for anything — cutting a major character from a novel, a venue or gallery falling through, a pandemic… If we can’t adapt to the sudden changes from within and without, we’re forever stuck.
Resilience
Resilience is adaptability maintained across time. How well do we take in, manage and live with the repercussions of uncertainty?
It isn’t about not feeling discomfort, stress or anxiety. It’s about how you carry it. How you grow with it. If you want to build your resilience, here are some practices that help:
Nurture Relationships & Community — it provides a support group and also takes the self out of the center of the problem
Practice Self Care & Mindfulness — recharge, care for your body, mind and spirit
Avoid Negative Outlets — drinking, drugs, tantrums, starting arguments, alienating people… artists have tried them all and none of them help
Keep Things in Perspective — set boundaries around your news and social media consumption, get outside, talk to other people
Overcoming Fear
Note that I didn’t say “fearlessness.” We feel fear for a reason, and we must know how to listen to it wisely.
Don McGrath, author of Vertical Mind: Psychological Approaches for Optimal Rock Climbing, said in an interview that the two most common fears climbers must overcome are fear of falling and fear of failure. Fear of falling occurs most often in new climbers, while he sees fear of failure occur most in seasoned climbers. Mountaineers must overcome both, but they must do it wisely, because their lives depend upon it.
Our fears as artists are less dire, but they are real and valid. Fear of failure, of embarrassment, of never reaching our potential… the only guarantee that these fears will be realized is if we don’t push through them.
As citizens in what is the death throes of an old America and the birth pangs of a new one, our fears are quite dire. We must face those and act safely first, but still according to our conscience.
As the poet (specifically Robert Frost) says, the only way out is through. The only way to fully realized work is through the obstacles of almost-fully realized work, ego and impatience.
And the only way out of this dark time in America is through more resistance and discomfort, more courageous and difficult conversations, and more love for our neighbors and our communities. We can be adaptable and resilient. We can overcome our fear. We can reach the summit.
Once we do, we can look back and see how we got there… and look forward to what comes next.
(And yes, this is my lame Ed Ruscha tribute graphic)
