How my snowboarding adventures got started.
Snowboarding has been my passion since I was in my early twenties. I lived in New York City at that time and did not have a car, so all my mountain adventures had to be reached by a touring bus. Starting with this sport was a big step for me, money was an issue, as I had to justify to myself this new expense. It was also difficult to convince myself that I can actually go through with it. My family didn’t do much skiing back in Ukraine, and I don’t really remember any ski resorts even being available at that time. Having no background to engage with this sport, I had to trust my intuition and be brave.
Getting my gear was a bit dreadful financially, but I went through with it. Before long, I was taking the bus to the mountain, scared and excited about my new adventure. My first season was torturesome as I learned the hard way what not to do. Taking lessons were not for tough guys like me, I could simply learn from watching others, and it worked, just took a bit longer. I also wasn’t very social with others at that time, language and culture barriers were in the way, in addition to my crippled self-image.
There was something inside of me that kept pushing further, some memory I had about a connection with the mountains and the snow, a distant song from a long time ago about awareness and clarity of vision. Like a long-distance swimmer drowning in my own karma, I listened to my inner guidance, patiently taking hard falls on the icy slopes. I often came home with significant bruises, but still satisfied with my efforts. I wasn’t letting this one go past me, this sport was my destiny, I had to be upon those mountains.
One of the first things that I got addicted to was the views, enjoying profound landscapes often above the clouds. Whatever problems tenaciously bugging me on the ground were quickly forgotten up there, as if taken away by a magic fairy wand. Being in the presence of the beautiful white snow cleansed whatever impurities my soul was going through at the time, leaving it vibrant and joyful as if the world was just saved from the invasion of darkness. Fresh mountain air cleaned my lungs from years of polluted city streets and stuffy office atmospheres, filling them with new life and a desire to do great things. Being up there felt like home, arriving at a state of mind that I longed for so much, filling my soul with clarity, joyfulness, and simplicity as I shredded the slopes like an ancient spirit warrior.
Each daily session left my body exhausted with pain and pleasure, boosting my confidence and a positive self-image, energizing my soul with pure mana of the divine presence. The mountains became my teachers, helping resolve my cyclic internal dialogs with a good jolt of the present moment, clearing my soggy karmas with freshness and gusto of healthy self-assurance. Every day up there had a different lesson, there was no way to anticipate what was coming my way, allowing uncertainty to turn my fear into courage and awareness. Some days the sun was warm and welcoming as if the ancient Mediterranean gods were rejoicing up there with me. Other days dark and heavy clouds invited spirits from the underworld to rise and play along, often shrieking violently in ripping winds as if the dragons themselves rose from the depth to stretch their wings. Such wild days were especially potent, testing my resolve and willpower to be with the light no matter what, not to abandon it for a split second, for that could mean losing my presence to a shade of gray, and surely enough, physical pain would follow.
There were times the fog would roll in from nowhere and blanket everything with a thick layer of milky goo, making it virtually impossible to see anything more than a few feet ahead. With such poor visibility, one had to really know the track well, a minor deviation at that speed could easily send one into the brush or even worse, down a steep ravine. Once in a while, a crazy newbie would park in the middle of the path as if forgetting for a moment how fast and brutal a collision with those following behind might be. I’ve seen a few those, split noses, broken hands and feet, skis flying in all directions, and stains of blood on fresh white powder.
A sport like that keeps things real in a way, there is no room for fakeness or fabrication, the mountain would certainly know and one would pay the price. I’ve left many dead karmas and idiotic tendencies on the slopes of those mountains, as if paying for my being there, emerging more mindful and present as ever before. Those were my rewards, leaving for the day, I desired nothing more but to become a better version of myself. The mountains heard my will, guiding me through dangers as if a loving gentle hand nudging a sailor lost at stormy sea. With time and practice, I developed trust in the present moment, my restless worried mind taking the back seat, allowing me to feel the way through perils and safely reach the lighthouse ahead.
With my mind relaxed, I often contemplated the nature of it, introspecting my thoughts as they come and go like clouds in the sky. What seemed like real problems within the dungeons of the city streets were now nothing but a state of mind, illusions created by faulty thinking, driven by fears, cultures, and assumptions, tragically misplaced from due compassion and basic common sense. Empowered by this simple truth, yet humbled by its profound meaning, over and over again I retreated back into my wired city cave, seeking connections with those who understand.
By no means my snowboarding skills developed above average, but that wasn’t the point for me. I soon realized that it was all about the altitude saturated with divine clarity, filled with the power of transformation as if being one step closer to that which has all the answers, only visible to the one endowed with the seeker’s spirit.
The mountains don’t play games,
Protect the ones who see through things,
Yet can be crafty tricksters with the minds
Filled with illusion and disguise.
I started with a mind too busy for a Dream,
A heart filled with rocks of anguish and regret.
I gave it all away, lost all my pain and pride,
Repaid with simple joy and feather in my hat.
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