Not a game

Someone that I worked with at MEC died on the weekend, from an ice climbing accident. I am wondering whether writing it will make it seem more real. At the moment, I just can’t make it real in my head. He was there one day, healthy, young, happy… and now he is not. The human mind really has a hard time registering this kind of news. We somehow seem to fool each other and ourselves that everything is permanent, and it is not. Paul’s death is definitely a reality check. It is also a reminder of the dangers that exist in climbing. A reminder that it is not a game. But then again, neither is life.

Thoughts are words that define worlds

I was wondering the other day. Is it wondering or wandering? I never know. To wander is to walk about and to wonder is to ponder, I think. But each is a bit of the other. Anyhow, I was wondering how I would describe my job to someone who, not only had no concept of IT, but had no language. I would try to say that I fill up blank space with words, symbols and code. But that the space is not physical space, but temporal and made of bits and bytes. Dots and dashes. Blanks and solids. Two contradictory opposing opposite entities bound together to make something that is nothing...

But then, how would I even get that far without language. Not just without the English language, but without any known language for the purpose of communication.

Imagine being the sole survivor of a lost and finished tribe, with no language. No peers. No family. Nothing and no one to serve as points of reference. Nothing to define, limit or outline you.No parameters. No boundaries. Nothing to show time passing, moving, shaping...

what would that be like? I can't even begin to imagine, as all my thoughts are words.