September 05, 2006
Himalaya Bound: Lessons in Leadership or Confessions of a Disabled Amateur
Well, looks like I’ve done it again. Found another un-named, unclimbed Himalayan summit - a glorious Matterhorn of mountain (though substantially higher!) - in need of someone to put its name on the world map.
Much to my chagrin, however, it may not be me.
Approaching the Un-named Mountain
In preparation for leading this expedition I began training hard. So hard, in fact, I seriously shredded what precious little cartilage I had left in right my right knee.
I couldn’t even tackle a flight of stairs without wanting to cry out in pain. Six weeks of every therapy in the book (rest, acupuncture, rolfing, reflexology, essential oils, enzymes and supplements and some that aren’t (like having a big Maori from New Zealand walk on the back of my legs while his six year old son sat on my back munching a bag of potato chips) seemed to have made a difference. I will attempt the hiking part of the expedition and the approach to the mountain. Whether I lead my team to the top is another story.
But, as I figured out yesterday, it really doesn’t matter.
Let me explain:
It’s a week before departure for Delhi. I figured my body was not going to get any better.
Yesterday was the day to take it out for a test spin. I did okay. Things felt reasonably good. Then, in the fading light of day, my descent route took me past the bottom pitch of the great monolith called Suicide Rock. Before I knew it I was clinging to tiny holds, working my way up the granite. My heart filled with song, my eyes filled with tears.
After wondering if I would ever return, I was home. Doing the thing I perhaps most love to do. Like a dolphin cavorting in the sea, I was back in my element. The granite was warm and gently contoured in my hands. Arms felt firm, feet confident. Looking around to make sure there were no other climbers around….shhhh…. I kissed the rock.
And in that midst of that extravagant act, I got my epiphany: I am an amateur.
The word amateur has nothing to do with whether or not you make your living at something. It means “one who loves”. I am not the world’s greatest rock climber. Far from it. But I am convinced that no one loves the vertical granitic experience more than I. And, because I am a lover of the mountains, I have spent much of my life taking people there. Is there any greater thrill in life, any greater satisfaction than sharing with others the things we care most about?
It is true across time and culture: successful individuals have learned an essential fact…
The greatest happiness comes not from attaining one’s dreams…
but in finding ways to help others attain theirs.
Last year, I reconnoitered the peak. This year I have already sent an advanced team to rebuild bridges washed out by this year’s monsoon storms. Another to scout out the route. I’ve done all I can to advance the team’s odds of success. Even if I cannot climb this peak, I believe some members will do so and have the once-in-a-lifetime experience of standing atop a glorious untrammeled summit.
Standing down below, as professional trip leader and mountain-loving ‘amateur’, my satisfaction will equal - perhaps even exceed - theirs.
On the other hand, my knee is feeling an awful lot better. I just might be able to join them up there. But if I do, it will be not at the front but at the tail end of the group, allowing others to step forward to their ‘peak experience’. That is what a good guide does.
As the Taoist sage Lao Tzu wrote in the Tao Te Ching:
Of a good leader…
when his work is done, his aim fulfilled
They will say: ‘We did this ourselves.’
We’ll be back at the end of September. Wish us luck and safety. And stay tuned for the next installment.
I’ll let you how we do!
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