21 Nov From the Editor: Ephemeral

Outdoor winter pastimes have a way of looking a lot like a love of suffering: the cold of melted snow on icy fingertips; the sting of subzero air on delicate nostrils; the muscle burn of trudging through deep, heavy snow. I think about winter fly fishing and knocking ice buildup from my rod’s eyelets. I think about cross-country skiing and feeling the instant chill of freezing sweat when I pause to catch my breath. I think about climbing a mountain with my dogs and scrambling across a precarious surface made invisible by thick snow.

As Jeannie Wall asks in “Dancing on Ice: Chasing the ‘in-nick’ climb” (page 96), Why do we have these esoteric and arguably bizarre passions? In her case, she’s asking about ice climbing, but other crazy pursuits abound. As she says, it’s about the wild places and it’s about the people we experience them with. The act of suffering for a cause forces complete focus: There’s nothing but living fully, right now.

Going through moments with this heightened presence brings about great intentionality and purpose. I wear these particular gloves for dexterity while keeping my hands from becoming cold. I don this specific scarf to warm the frigid air before it gets to my nose. I posthole, but if the snow is just right, I get out the snowshoes.

We return from these passions having survived something greater than ourselves and, while fleeting, the experiences can inform how we move through our day-to-day lives. To be present in the moment is to be focused on what’s immediately important at hand, not distracted by the seemingly urgent tasks in the periphery.

This way of being is a thread woven through the stories of this issue, illustrated by the intrepid, purposeful individuals who are highlighted across the pages. Whether it’s through ice climbing, art, dog training, conservation, or otherwise, these people are exploring the intersection of self and community — they’re looking at how they go about life in focus.