If You're Not A Feminist, You're Part

At That Stage Of My Youth, Death Remained As Abstract A Concept As Non-euclidean Geometry Or Marriage. I Didn't Yet Appreciate Its Terrible Finality Or The Havoc It Could Wreak On Those Who'd Entrusted The Deceased With Their Hearts.

I Understood What He Was Doing, That He Had Spent Four Years Fulfilling The Absurd And Tedious Duty Of Graduating From College And Now He Was Emancipated From That World Of Abstraction, False Security, Parents, And Material Excess.

Early On A Difficult Climb, Especially A Solo Climb, You’re Hyper-aware Of The Abyss Pulling At Your Back, Constantly Feeling Its Call, Its Immense Hunger. To Resist Takes Tremendous Conscious Effort, You Don’t Dare Let Your Guard Down For An Instant. The Void Puts You On Edge, Makes Your Movements Tentative And Clumsy. But As The Climb Continues, You Grow Accustomed To The Exposure, You Get Used To Rubbing Shoulders With Doom, You Come To Believe In The Reliability Of Your Hands And Feet And Head. You Learn To Trust Your Self-control.

Its Not Always Necessary To Be Strong, But To Feel Strong.

He Was Unheeded, Happy, And Near To The Wild Heart Of Life. He Was Alone And Young And Wilful And Wildhearted, Alone Amid A Waste Of Wild Air And Brackish Waters And The Seaharvest Of Shells And Tangle And Veiled Grey Sunlight.