Heed the murderous crone: Screw your courage to the sticking place. Or was it: Stick your courage to the screwing place? No matter. I fear, most of all, failure, injury, accident--not death, the casting off of the mortal coil. I'm worried about the pulled tendon, perhaps a weakness of spirit. I've had great plans scratched before. Who hasn't felt the nagging splinter of an unfinished dream? When I was still wedded to the idea of being a serious rock climber and mountaineer, I had many great goals, and I accomplished some of them, but others reside in the dust-filled bin labeled: "Unfinished Business." What's the proverb? When God wants to punish us, he answers our prayers? True enough. An alpine super hero I was not to be. Dangerous stuff, that. Get killed. My mambo mojo wouldn't samba if I lay broken at the base of some icy north face. I sensed the uncertain resolve in my fingers and the certain resolution should they fail--as fail they must, all of us, sooner or later. But we've still got to get into the game when we can. Burn the candle at least from one end again and again till the wax gives out. Love that well which thou must leave 'er long, eh? Yeah, you betcha.
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