Talking Rocks

Climbing is a conversation. You approach the rock, the rock acknowledges your presence. As your hands find the start hold, it begins to ramble. At first when it speaks, your brows furrow and you shake your head in confusion. It is just a rock, nothing more, why should you listen to it? Probably one of those illegal immigrant rocks anyways.

But as you listen you feel a rhythem in the speech giving you an idea of what the rock is trying to say. Is it angry? Peaceful? Suicidal? Your body moves up the rock, albeit somewhat ungracefully, as your ears pick out certain repeated words, and your hands follow the gestures that come naturally when one is speaking. You come to pick up words as your body learns to imitate the strange sounds you hear. The moves, the words, they begin to flow out your fingers and toes as you converse will greater confidence and speed.

Now you've separated tenses, you know your past from your future and will do's (V9's) from your have done's (V4, V5's). 'Rock' and 'I', thought to be seperate nouns, are now a hyphenated word. As your body learns newer, bigger, fancier words, your skill level increases. The topic becomes more heated, the moves more dynamic, you fight to win a point in an arguement.

When you have truly beaten your body into pushing the physical limits, outcomes of your attempts will be decided by the sharpness of your wits. Despite your hard-won strength, the rock is only encouraged to speak faster, almost too fast to follow, even once in a while throwing in a bit of slang and occasionally cursing you in its excitement. You learn to curse back, pulling through the crux, and at that moment you've outspoken the rock.

Once you have an accent,
you will also achieve your ascent.