Whispering Into A Roar
Saturday, September 26, 2009 at 07:09AM 
Majka Burhardt on Omega, Cannon Cliff, NH. Photo by Peter Doucette
In conjunction with Climbing Magazine and climbing.com. Read online HERE.
This is a story without a conclusion. Maybe that will change by the end. At this point, I’m not betting on it. Four weeks ago, I wrote a piece about trying to understand death in the face of more death, and in spite of life. I thought that, by writing it, I would move on from it—be released from it. But here’s the thing about writing about death: it creates conversation about death. And when you write about death and climbing, it creates a roar.
I can’t fully understand it, but I also don’t know if I am that surprised. I wrote about being scared as a climber. I wrote about questioning my choices. And suddenly, everyone else seemed to question my choices as well. My best friend from first grade wrote to ask me to please stick around until we are both old and can swap stories of our different lives.
“Maybe it’s time to reconsider the danger level,” he said. “I hope you are open to interesting twists and turns that may keep you in safer territory.”
I wrote him back: “I will be careful. I am careful. I am paying attention.”
My New York writing friend, a new mother, wrote and said, “Maybe it’s a good time to take it easy. I’m serious.”
I sent her a similar response to what I sent my grade-school friend, and as I typed it, I believed it, but I also wanted to take it back. I didn’t really want to send a response at all. I didn’t really want the note from her in the first place. I didn’t want to be reproached. And even though I knew it was out of love, I didn’t want to be questioned. It might have been because I didn’t want the questions to get in my way. But really, it was because all the answers I could come up with sounded hollow and weak. But I still typed them onto the white space on my computer. What else was I supposed to do?
Climbing, Family, Life & Death, Loss, On Life 
