News from Jules | 06.12.2023 | Live it Now
Tucked in the corner of Sisters Coffee in Sisters, Ore., I was already deep into writing my Monday newsletter, but I noticed him out of the corner of my eye waiting patiently for his coffee. Tall, with broad shoulders, a blond beard, and what I would soon see were gentle eyes and a sweet smile, wearing a Patagonia pullover, shorts, and approach shoes. Moments later he sat down across from me and pulled out his matching Apple laptop.
Before heading out an hour later, as I fumbled to unplug his laptop while replacing the bench I’d borrowed from that end of the table, the moment presented itself for a hello, short conversation, and exchange of numbers.
An adorable meet cute indeed.
That was three weeks, four climbing sessions, three hikes, five breweries, ten dinners, and one rodeo ago. Yesterday, he continued traveling north to go climb and work remotely from the epic Canadian Rockies for the next couple of months—a journey I know is well worth the effort.
There’s a popular phrase from a poem that we meet people for “a reason, a season or a lifetime.” But how can we know from the onset—what we’ll learn from them, when we’ll keep crossing paths or how long they’ll be present in our lives?
We can’t.
So, we must live it now.
Something I’ve thought about a lot lately navigating all new relationships while traveling across the country last year and recently migrating to Central Oregon. I had yet to click with anyone romantically here. I wasn’t praying for an attractive climbing partner specifically, but I could feel how open my heart was to caring and being cared for, equally.
“I think you might be onto something with that kindred spirit thing,” he commented in a text message after reading and subscribing to my newsletter.
“Oh yeah, how so? What strikes you?,” I replied.
“Adventurous, independent and a major love for playing in the mountains it seems.”
That Thursday, he picked me up at Sisters Coffee and we carpooled to the weekly climbing meet-up at the Bend Rock Gym. Swiftly and elegantly moving up routes that are too hard for me, I belayed and watched from below, realizing what a skilled climber he is.
No wonder he has all those beautiful muscles.
Route after route, we climbed for two hours. I had one climb left in me and he suggested a 5.10 in the harder back corner of the gym where I don't usually climb (Here’s a diagram to understand climb grading in the Yosemite Decimal System).
Not one to back down from a challenge, I chalked up and climbed on, unsure how far I could go.
Halfway up, my legs were shaking and my arms were tired. But, hold after hold I loudly grunted my way up and surprisingly made it to the top. We talked about it the next day and I asked why he didn’t say anything from below when I was clearly struggling.
Driven by his own inner voice, he didn’t realize I needed external encouragement. Huh, I guess I do! I laughed and told him my favorite mantra: You got this, girl.
Just like rock climbing routes, each relationship feels brand new and unique. Like it’s never been done it before. Because it’s never been done by you before. Likewise, we already know thousands of people, but we don’t know this person yet. There’s energy and interest, and ideally calm and curiosity, learning more with each interaction.
Because how we relate to people matters. Checking in, opening up, expressing needs, giving feedback, and learning from our experiences are just as important over text messages as in the bedroom as on the rock wall.
A week and a half and many dates later, we were doing our first route of the day at Smith Rock State Park. He lead the route, connecting carabiner quick draws to bolts on the wall and threading the rope through before setting up an anchor at the top so that I could just climb up like inside the gym.
Once again, I found myself shaking and feeling weak halfway up even though he chose easier routes for us with bigger footholds and deeper handholds to match my skill level. Doubt started creeping in. I made it to the top, barely.
Standing below the second route he set up, I was unusually quiet as I tied onto the rope getting ready to climb.
My “yeah” answer to his “Are you okay?” question must have been unconvincing because he walked over, looked me in the eyes, gave me a kiss, and said: “You got this.”
It was exactly the comfort and reassurance I needed to clear my mind of thoughts and let my heart reach for the holds. It was a harder and longer route than the first one, but I swiftly and elegantly moved to the top.
See photos from our climbing and hiking adventures and more on Instagram.
Once again in the climbing gym last Thursday—our fourth climbing session—we each tackled more, harder routes than usual. His calm strength continued to rub off on me. I felt confidence surge through my veins with each intuitive read of the route, with each hold I boldly reached for, and with each far lean to balance myself on a tiny foothold. I easefully “sent,” or completed, not just one, but two, 5.10 routes and he sent a 5.12+.
In the 2018 documentary, This Mountain Life (which I highly recommend) artist Bernhard Thor wanders around his off-grid homestead at the tip of the Northern Cascades Range sharing, “I’m not a city person. I had to move out here because the only time I felt I had my heart in my chest is when I was up in the mountains. I feel at home.”
“Your feet must follow your heart otherwise, you’re not free,” Thor said.
Not our mind, but our heart. Not what makes sense, but what feels right. Otherwise, we will miss so much of what life has to offer us, including relationships—romantic and platonic, lengthy and especially momentary.
It wasn’t just my climbing that got stronger over the past few weeks. I’m learning to receive care, not just give it. To just have fun following my heart without any outcome in mind. Instead of clinging to expectations, I’m becoming completely open to relationships lasting an interaction, a day, a few weeks, a season, years, or longer.
To believe that all of those are possible.
That every relationship is an opportunity for growth.
And shows us how far we’ve come.
May your feet (and hands) follow your heart this week.
Love,
Jules