CLIMBING MT. YORAN.

A month ago, I climbed Mt. Yoran, an extinct volcano in the heart of Central Oregon's wilderness east of Eugene.

Have you climbed all the easy stuff in the Northwest? Dog Mountain, Mt. Defiance, Mt. St. Helens? Are you looking for a peak that provides a taste of what the more difficult Cascade volcanoes are like, without a lot of the danger and arduous effort? Yoran luck. In fact, Yoran idiot if you don't climb this peak.

Okay, I'll stop. 

All puns aside, Mt. Yoran boasts scenic forests, gorgeous views of Diamond Peak and Divide Lake, and a short, sharp, exciting Class 3/4 summit scramble that flirts with significant exposure but never leaves you one mistake away from an untimely death. 

This eight-mile hike starts by meandering through beautiful forests for three miles, gently climbing to Divide Lake. Follow the signs for Mt. Yoran Trail (if you couldn't figure this out on your own, you might want to hire a guide). Once you've reached Divide Lake, take a minute to walk to the far side of the lake and snap a couple pictures of your stately quarry, majestically reflected in Divide Lake's green waters. Look for a climber's trail that angles towards the right side of  Yoran's prominent South Gully. It's worth the extra effort required to locate this small trail, because otherwise you'll be scrambling through a steep field of scree and rubble for quite some time just to reach Yoran's South Gully.

At this point, Yoran eighth of a mile from the summit, but the fun has just begun.

Sorry, I promise I'll stop this time.

Scramble left around a large rock outcropping into the obvious South Gully itself. Climb this class 3 gully on surprisingly solid rock, staying on the right side of the gully. I took my time here, since I was climbing solo and wasn't in the mood to become a statistic due to the rubble that remains on many of the gully's ledges.

Work your way towards the obvious headwall at the top of the gully, and exit via a nifty class 4 move onto a slightly airy ledge. If you're not accustomed to exposure, take your time here, and walk to your left towards the obvious, steep rockfield just below the summit ridge. Scramble up these class 3 rocks to the ridge (don't know what these rock climbing ratings mean? Click HERE), turn right towards the higher, true summit, navigate a narrow catwalk, and you're there.

Mt. Yoran's summit is, in a word, spectacular. It affords up-close-and-personal views of Diamond Peak and South Mt. Yoran, and 360-degree vistas of the Three Sisters, Mt. Jefferson, and more. Its 7,100' elevation is short by West Coast standards, but bear in mind that if transplanted, it would be the highest peak in 35 US states. In other words, you can still shamelessly brag about this summit to your friends anywhere east of the Rockies.

I spent over an hour on Yoran's summit, devouring the delectable views and snapping photos. The weather was perfect, and, like a kid in a candy store, I couldn't get enough. Yes, I used my selfie stick. Yes, it was a gift. Don't hate.

Though Yoran wouldn't even make the list of the tallest 50 mountains I've climbed, it will always hold a special place in my heart. Its summit was the first real summit I'd stood on since fully rupturing my Achilles 17 months ago. This mountain meant more to me than almost any other peak I'd climbed, because of what it's taken me to get back to doing what I love. So I sat, munching BBQ Cornnuts and taking it all in, so grateful for life, for grace, for every step I'd taken, and for the fact that the body heals.

Finally, I retraced my steps to the top of the South Gully and carefully downclimbed it, pausing several times to admire the emerald waters of Divide Lake, seemingly directly beneath my feet. Once back on the Mt. Yoran Trail, I returned the route I'd come.

A word to the wise: bring mosquito repellent on this climb. I didn't. The mosquitoes were hungry, and I was delicious. I got eaten alive, especially in some of the marshy areas towards the beginning of the hike. Anytime you can learn from your own mistakes, it's a beautiful thing. Anytime you can learn from someone else's mistakes, it's even better. You're welcome.

Also, bring sunblock, plenty of water, plenty of food...you know the drill. For directions to the trailhead, click HERE.

In the Pacific Northwest? Climb this mountain. As soon as possible. Yoran for a real treat.

Sorry.

PAIN IS CALLING. ARE YOU LISTENING?

Pain.

It’s an inevitable fact of life. A unifying reality that both rich and poor, Democrat and Republican, men and women, left-handers and those not fortunate enough to be left-handed, all experience.

Everyone hurts. As Bob Dylan said, “Behind every beautiful thing, there’s some kind of pain.”

Pain comes in many forms. We go to great lengths to avoid it, to bury it deep, to fight it with therapy and medication and a slew of other solutions.

I’d like to posit, though, that pain is not the enemy. It’s simply an indicator that something needs to change.

Physical pain, for instance, is the body’s way of letting us know that something is wrong. If, for reasons unknown, you put your tongue on a hot rod of iron, for instance, pain will immediately let you know that this was a terrible idea. Unless, of course, you’re a leper, in which case I invite you to skip to the next paragraph.

In a similar fashion, emotional pain is the heart’s way of letting us know that something is wrong, that something needs to change.

And change we do, whether for better or worse.

Pain can shut a heart down; it can break a person’s will; it can lead to terrible, permanent decisions.

But pain, in and of itself, has no power. It can only break us if we let it. Ergo, it can only help us if we let it, as well.

Pain can do amazing things. It gets us out of our comfort zone; shakes us from complacency. Pain helps us find meaning in all that heals. Without pain, we would never know that we’re in need.

Through pain, not in spite of it, we become who we want to be. We learn how to love more deeply. We strip away all of life’s frivolity and cling to who and what really matters. And, in the midst of pain, we long even more deeply for a place where everything is made new.

Are you going through pain? A tragedy, a failed relationship, a death, broken dreams, an illness, or regret? I can relate. We as a human race can relate. You are not alone in your pain. I have experienced plenty of it, and I have often let it get the best of me. I’m in the midst of several very private, very painful situations right now, so I’m writing this just as much for myself as I am for you.

If you are anything like me, you’re tired of useless clichés: “Things will get better!” “You’ve gotta find the silver lining!” “Everything will turn out OK!”

Sometimes, things will not turn out OK. Sometimes, pain becomes our ever-present reality. Sometimes, there are no easy answers, and sometimes, there are no answers at all.

Pain is well beyond knocking when it arrives at your door. Now, it just lets itself in, makes itself at home in your heart. So, I encourage you not to run from it. Not to bury it. Not to ignore it. Face the pain head-on. Embrace it, even. A wise woman named Oprah puts it like this: “Turn your wounds into wisdom.” Let your pain change you: not into a bitter, self-pitying recluse, but into someone who clings firmly to love, to joy, and to the promise that one day, pain will be no more.

We are not left to deal with our pain alone. A Man of Suffering, familiar with pain, took the agony we deserve upon himself so that one day soon, pain will be erased forever.

An wise man named C.S. Lewis delves deep: “Pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our consciences, but shouts in our pains. It is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world.”

Pain is calling. Are you listening?

LISTEN UP. EVERYONE HAS A STORY.

 

Listen Up: Everyone Has A Story.

It's my new blog post on the beauty of being an ear, not a voice.

Read it on my Medium page!

THE KILLER IN YOUR LIVING ROOM.

There is a killer in your living room.

It lies in wait for your demise.

Forget the suspense. The killer is your TV.

No, I'm not talking about potentially dangerous radiation emissions from your flat-screen. Your TV literally wants to kill the you inside.

Chances are, you're a typical American. If so, you watch more than 5 hours of live TV every day, according to numerous studies like this one.

Assuming you're average in every way, you'll live to 79. By the time you croak, you will have watched 144,273.75 hours of television. Don't feel like doing math? Don't worry, sponge-brained TV watcher, I did it for you. When you die, you will have watched TV for almost 16 and a half precious years of your life, or just under one third of the time you're awake.

These figures don't even account for Netflix, YouTube, TiVo, and every other current available medium for getting your fix.

And you say you never have time to get things done.

Don't get me wrong: it's not what you're watching that's bad. It's that you're watching.

You watch TV because you're broke? Here's a news flash: TVs costs money. Satellite, cable, and Netflix cost money. More importantly, you could be making money in the time you're wasting.

You watch TV because you're bored? Cool. So you're telling me that you don't have a single friend who could use a listening ear? There's not a single nonprofit organization in town that's accepting volunteers? There isn't a single hike you could go on, a single person whose day you could brighten, a single cause you could champion? I didn't think so.

You don't have a TV, and you're proud of it? Good for you. Oh, but you stream all your shows and watch a ton of movies, too? You're a hypocrite. Shut up.

You're not doing, enriching, creating, living. You are simply consuming.

You made a connection with someone over the fact that you watch the same show? So what? A chimpanzee can watch TV and communicate about it. Forge connections with people over real life, over things that actually matter.

TV is not real life. Reality shows are not reality. TV is your reality, you say? Wake up. Your reality could be so much bigger. You were made to live life to the fullest, not take root on your couch.

You could be bettering yourself, your life, your planet. You simply can't do that while watching TV.

Chances are, your steady consumption of entertainment is the single biggest thing ruining your life today. You aren't making progress at work? Your relationship is stagnant? You feel like you don't have any real friends? You can't seem to lose weight? Stop complaining, turn off your TV, and get to work on your life. TV is a drug. It's an escape. But it won't let you escape forever.

Do I own a TV? Yes. Do I watch it? Once every couple months, when my 49ers are playing an important game. Does this make me a hypocrite? Of sorts, yes.

I'm not saying that there is never a time and a place for TV. I'm not advocating complete abstinence from entertainment consumption. I'm merely pointing out that if the balance sheet of your life tips in favor of consumption instead of production, it's time to make a change.

Nobody ever changed the world for the better by watching TV. Not once.

You can't imagine a life without NCIS, The Walking Dead, The Big Bang Theory, and Game Of Thrones, you say? (Confession: I Googled “Most Popular TV Shows 2014” before writing the previous sentence so I would actually sound like I have a clue about this stuff.)

Try turning off your TV for a week. I dare you. With all your newfound spare time, do something—anything--to make this world a better place.

Nobody on their deathbed wishes they would've watched more TV.

Kill your TV before it kills you.

YOU CAN STILL CHANGE THE WORLD.

Remember when we were kids?

Back when we were little people, we had big dreams. Dreams of changing the world. Dreams of leaving a mark on history.

We dreamed of being astronauts. Firemen. Explorers. Fighter pilots. We dreamed of becoming President. Of curing cancer. Of ending wars.

We dreamed big. 

Then, life happened.

As we grew older, and as we faced obstacles, our dreams were tempered by the fire of reality, shrunk in the dryer of the daily grind. We set our sights on careers with smaller impacts. We listened to the calm voice of reason instead of to the rebel yell of risk.

We got so wrapped up in making a living that we forgot to make a life.

Now, we sit in our cubicles, in our committees, at our conferences, with our clients, or on our couches, wondering what happened to our dreams of changing the world.

I have good news for you.

You can still change the world.

Impossible, you tenuously mutter to yourself. You have a mortgage. Bills. Kids. A family. Friends. A job. A dog that you love, at most times, more than everything else in this paragraph. 

Well, you're probably not going to cure world hunger or eradicate terrorism anytime soon. You're most likely not going to devote yourself to the destitute hordes of Calcutta. You're too old to be a rock star, and you're too (insert any number of negative adjectives here) to be a supermodel.

You left your childhood dreams in a box, along with all your action figures and stuffed animals, somewhere in your parents' basement.

But, you can still change the world. Not metaphorically. Tangibly.

Here's how:  Show some love to someone. Today. Right now. Love someone lovable. Then, love someone unlovable. Then, do it over again.

Heard of the ripple effect? The butterfly effect? You have. Believe in their efficacy? You probably don't.

Love someone. Try it today. Will you see the effects overnight? Probably not. Will you be voted Time's Person Of The Year? Doubtful. Will your actions have a very real, lasting effect on your sphere of influence, and eventually many other spheres as well? Unequivocally, yes.

Be the kind of person you want in your own life. The kind of person who changes the people around you for the better. They, in turn, will do the same.

Kevin Bacon has only six degrees of separation from everyone else on the planet? I'm pretty sure that love and kindness spread considerably faster. 

So, go ahead and dream big. Dream of being kind to someone who life has passed by. Dream of responding to a snarky comment from your significant other with love and grace. Dream of giving when no one is looking. Dream of loving your family even when you don't feel like it. Dream of being the kind of person who exudes such joy, such love, such concern, such grace, that everyone around you can't get enough of you.

Dream of loving and expecting nothing in return.

Dream it, then do it. It really is that simple.

You rarely change someone else's life from on stage. From a space shuttle. From the Pentagon. From a mansion in Beverly Hills. You change someone's life, someone's world, when they are standing right in front of you, imperfectly perfect, beautifully bittersweet. Just like you.

Riches, fame, and success are fleeting. Faith, hope and love remain, and the greatest of these is love.

What are you waiting for?  Go change the world.

OF SHOES AND SALADS.

I blew it.

Messed up. Missed a golden opportunity.

I believe that we were placed on this earth to love, primarily. Not just to love our friends, our family, and those who love us back. We were placed here to love people who have nothing to give us in return. The unlovable, if you will.

Every morning, I pray that my eyes will be open to the needs of those around me, both stranger and friend. I pray that people who need love will be placed in my path. I pray that I will be able to take my mind off of my own needs, pull my head out of my metaphorical behind, and simply love. Whether that love consists of a listening ear or a Clif Bar tossed out my car window in the general direction of a homeless person, I try to answer the call.

More often than not, I miss that call.

A couple days ago, I was in the midst of a busy shift at Stanford's at Portland International Airport. Working at airport bars is an interesting endeavor. It's virtually impossible to predict when business will arrive. A couple international flights delayed simultaneously? You can go from two guests to a hundred in just a few brief minutes.

I was in the middle of such a rush when a young, dirty, scraggly-looking guy walked in to my bar and sat down at one of the few remaining open tables. He ordered a water. I brought over a menu and asked for his ID. Even though he wasn't drinking alcohol, Oregon law mandates that minors can't even sit in certain bars, including mine.

"I don't have an ID," he meekly replied.

There was a sadness, an emptiness, in this young man's eyes that struck me, that seared its way into my brain.

"OK, no worries," I said. "I'll get you a table in the dining room."

He quietly got up from his chair and made his way towards the dining room. I followed. It was then that I noticed his feet.

He wasn't wearing shoes.

Unfortunately, our corporate policy adheres to the old adage "No shirt, no shoes, no service." No pants? No problem. But shoes are a must.

I knew I had to ask him to leave. I was getting busier by the second, with people streaming in from several hurricane-delayed flights to the East Coast.

So I did. No apology, no pause.

He quietly responded, "I've been asking all the stores in the airport if they have any work I can do in exchange for some shoes. No one had any available. I just want to get a salad but I can't afford that either."

This was no ordinary homeless guy. He was no con artist, he was no criminal. He never asked me for anything; never was anything but courteous. Somehow, though, his path had led him to the place where our paths would intersect.

I have over 40 pairs of shoes in my closet. I have an enormous tub of salad mix currently spoiling in my fridge because I can't eat it fast enough.

This is America, though! I work hard for what I have. I give, but only when it doesn't hurt.

"I'll just finish my water and go," the guy said. And he did. I walked away. Paying customers required my attention.

It wasn't until after the rush slowed down that the weight of what I had done settled upon my shoulders.

I could've done so much in so little time. I could've bought him a salad, and boxed it up to go. I could've given him the Clif Bar I'd brought to work. I could've smiled. I could've asked him how he was doing. I could've asked him if there was any way I could bring him a pair of shoes after I got off work.

None of these things would have taken much time, money, or effort on my part. Still, I did none of them. My other customers were waiting, customers whose tips would help me store up treasure here on earth. As for the one customer who could've helped me store up treasure in heaven? I turned my back on him and walked away.

"Whatever you did for the least of these brothers and sisters of mine," said Jesus, "you did it for me."

"I was hungry and you didn't give me food to eat...I was a stranger and you didn't welcome me. I was naked and you didn't give me clothes to wear."

I don't know why this one encounter left me in such a fragile emotional state. I've blown plenty of opportunities to love in the past, and I will undoubtedly miss more chances in the future. But this one guy's eyes, his voice, his pain left an indelible impression on my heart.

Maybe I've been too focused on my own struggles. Yes, this year has been tough for me. Three months of no walking and working. Two months and counting of constant back pain and fitful sleep. Literally sixty appointments with healthcare professionals.

All it took, though, was one man's lonely, hungry, desperate stare to realign my perspective.

I'm going to keep an extra pair of shoes in my car, just in case our paths cross again.

IT IS WELL WITH MY SOUL.

These last three months have been a trying time for me. In the midst of almost constant pain, frustration, immobility, and financial difficulty, the words of the old hymn "It Is Well With My Soul" have given me hope. So, I recorded this hymn in the hopes that it, and He, could do the same for you. 

It will be officially released on May 12 on iTunes, Spotify, and everywhere else, and you can pre-order it on Amazon today.

After reading about Horatio Spafford, the hymn's author, and the suffering that he endured, my trials pale in comparison. However, it's safe to say that we will all encounter hardship, and we are all in need of hope and perspective. I hope this song can provide that for you, as it has for me.