making

Sometimes it all swirls about, a maddening pot.

The too nervous, panicked, and overwhelmed, toss the boiling brew over, putting out the fire in a flash of drama, and then the thing is gone and the kitchen, bedroom, littered streets are dark; not even a remaining glow in the eyes.

But!  But if you stay with the beast, letting her simmer – simmer!?
Letting her turbulent roll and spit!
Let the thing dirvish and seize!
But you, yes you, keep calm.
Maybe only with a hinting smile that some might mistake as devilish,
though you are quite certain that it is “only” sincere tickling;
and the rolling, turning, bubbling, maddening, is a pot in your own belly,
it makes you all these things,
with your hinting, devilish smile, it slowly becomes
the fodder,
form,
manifesting,
by “old” man alchemy (which is always a work of the heart)
the magic you have said you want to believe.

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Nini Theilade

I’ve decided that for my greatest feat of impossible love –
Following the borderline personality haunted by ghosts,
The 3-year pen pal with an endless cast of hidden boyfriends,
The secret affair with “married” woman,
The married childhood sweetheart with child who lives in London,
The high school student who I will not speak of due to an undying dedication to her, as well as a reasonable success in respect and honor,
And finally the single mother for whom I am riddled with guilt –
that I should fall in love with Nini Theilade in 1935.  She was born in 1915 so it is almost a reasonable age for me to fall in love with her.  And the times were different then; a man of 33 would not be frowned upon for marrying a woman of 20.

Unlike the challenges of my past impossible loves I am not engaging minor boughts with time and space; this is a full on battle.  My plan of action will be varied.

 

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To begin practically I will: hone my piano accompaniment skills for ballet; complete the compositions I’ve been working on for years for two ballets; write an additional piece specific for her particular style of dance; do more pushups, pull ups, and sit ups to meet the physical expectations of a woman in the 1930’s; work on my prose; button up my hygiene and wardrobe and get a haircut.

Moving on to practices that might influence space: I have begun practicing basic sleight of hand tricks, the French-drop for example.  This might tune me up for more significant manipulations of space.  I will begin studying chemistry so as to transition into alchemy, and quantum physics to magnify my ability to impact the observed.  I am looking into being discovered by a Mystery School or other gathering of the Occult.

Lastly to impact time: I’ll begin by pacing myself as if I were living in the 1930’s.  This will demand a bit more research into the times.  More reading of books from that era, more watching of films from that era in their original format.  I have also returned to a practice of daily meditation, but instead of focusing on morality which is principle (though often over looked in the modern context) to Buddhism I will emphasize first on the projection of the Astral Body through time but then also the Ethereal and then Physical Body through that lens.

In the end I expect another disastrous relationship that I do not regret for one moment for the love and magic that it brings my bleeding and broken heart.

Posted in Gonzo Road, Raw Ideas, Travel | Leave a comment

closing words (excerpt)

…What I will leave you with is one more idea that didn’t have an adequate place within the paper until now; it might be a helpful analogy.  It is simple and almost physical.  I didn’t speak much about fear, but fear is a powerful motivator to inhibit one’s willingness to be exposed, one’s willingness to engage risk.  Maybe because I am one-part rock-jock I like to make these comparisons to exercise, but if I can explain this well it may reveal why I am so drawn to the mountains, and why I’ll push myself to do the things that seem really scary.

I’ve always thought of fear as a notable negative finding.  In other words, it is not a thing itself, but the negative space that reveals the ‘size’ of what is there within a person’s state of being.  Think of weight lifting.  Whether you are a body builder or just starting out in the gym after making some New Year’s Resolution, you can bench press a certain amount of weight.  Then think of ‘weakness’.  That word means something entirely different to each athlete who speaks it.  To the gym-newbie it might refer to their inability to lift half their own weight.  To the seasoned athlete it might mean that they can’t press 4 times their own weight.  But it is a notable negative finding.  It is not a thing itself, not until the subjective objectives of the athlete conditional to his/her personal state at that moment in time are included in the equation.  Of course if we lift weights, with proper form, rest, nutrition, and by increasing intensity over a course of time, careful not to injure ourselves or cycle into negative gains by over ambitious overtraining, we will break through our prior notions of weakness and will establish a new meaning to the word.

Now imagine that there is some muscle in the brain that we can exercise through exposure- engaging in risk and new-experiences or ways of thinking.  We can stretch and strengthen those brain muscles with intentional exercise.  We can also strain the muscle- tear it by over training or performing at a level way beyond our present capacity.  The training that results in positive gains might be called a growth-zone.  The training or performing that tears muscles might be called a panic-zone.  And the training or lack of training that results in muscular atrophy could be called a comfort-zone.  What we feel when we try to lift some metaphysical weight but it feels difficult I am calling ‘fear’.  And of course there are degrees of that notable negative finding; some that we can push through and others than are absolutely debilitating.

So fear is muscular weakness of one’s will.  It can be exercised and strengthened.  This is why I climb.  This is why I often choose ‘hard-roads’.  This is why I attempt to be intentional with the choices I make.  This is why after years of rejecting ‘higher-education’ I have decided to get my undergraduate degree.  And there of course are many more examples and many more ways I could better engage this personal training.

But maybe that idea is helpful?  It has been for me.  It reminds me of the values my high school yoga teacher, Bob Butera, would teach: “slow and consistent, balanced.  Do a little more.  What’s important is that you continue the practice everyday.”

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Update. Not prose.

Because I won’t waste a thing, the sad and lost,

because I won’t endure impossible pain just to feel sorry for myself,

torture is not an idol thing, especially when I allow the dark abuses.

Because I have a hero who I might follow with all her red knights,

I have begun the intentional road of facing the long imposing force that has caused some of the only fears I’ve ever felt.  The one’s that stop me in place and make me cry out for mercy from the dark spirits themselves.  Those who taught me to end dreams and start them again.  Those who came as suffocating dragons so large that I could not see them.  Those who came as the figures in the dark who would dare to take a form in front of me and I plead “please please not tonight.  Come again the morning.  Or come to me in dreams, there I’ve learned to endure the terrible fear.”  They might come in little bits, but more they have waited for me.  And maybe I can now?  I have to.  What else is there for all this torture and pain but to face this great dark.  The beast.  I know it is devilish of course, but also great great good.  It is that immaterial, magic, fodder, folds, exploding always.

Last night I let a little more take form, walking to the bathroom.  Always in corners, in the darkened glass and mirrors.

I won’t waste the pain.

Not for more drink, or pretenses at comfort, inauthentic arms, I’ll dive right into my captors embrace, right into the devil’s mouth.

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How quickly those little gremlins creep out
From forgotten tucked aways;
The dirt and darkens.

How terribly they spring up
Conjuring suddenly and
Devilish images of thought forgotten
Heartache and jealous

The stoic, composed, trained-relaxed:
Your face
And slow breath and beating heart,
While the spirit-beast is beating raging hard!

Has this become an empty mantra?:
I live intentionally
The choices I make are not for pleasure
Or experience.
Or by saying this am I reminded of how I should live?
And like the gremlins from forgotten tucked aways
A flower on brittle dead vines unfolds and fills
A landscape of falling pedals and beaming.

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Of Courtship

be decent, honest, and kind.

Rule #1: Shaping yourself into your partner’s ideal is not kind.  I know it felt that way.  But it is not honest; and therefore not decent.  Probably because it is not sustainable.  And probably because you’ll end up hating it.
{Not a Rule: Calling your boyfriend or girlfriend, man or woman, or lover your ‘partner’ feels like you are doing something perfectly contractual and not at all passionate or romantic.  That kind of sucks.}

Rule #2: Never use a line.  Or if what you say is/was not but sounds like one, don’t repeat it in the past or future. This one time is ok, if inspired by the recipient.  When you repeat it, it becomes a line

–> Rule #3: Only say what is born from your heart in marriage with their (the target of your passion)’s presence.  In other words, the poetry that sprung to your lips as you shifted about catching glances from corners of eyes or through darkened window reflections, or even as you sat there looking up at slow but regular intervals, between sips of twig tea, giving the best innocent smile that you could muster- all the while your heart tripping over its own desperate sprint.  And when (if) her lips turn up at the corners and eyes bat once or twice there the thing is!  Born!  Your heart has beaten out a form and the words roll out, whether they sound like a line or not.  {Whether her smile is authentic, or even for you… or not.}

Rule #4: The objective is not to “get” the other.  There is no objective.  Do what seems right to you, despite the outcome.  Don’t do what seems right to obtain an outcome.  Don’t vote for a lesser of two evils or so that a president will legalize pot or gay marriage.  And don’t wait three days before you call because a book told you you could get laid.  {With that said, please refer to rule #10.}

Rule #5: Never argue to obtain or maintain love.  It is better to lose with grace.  Also, don’t let a person know you “figured them out” and then spit a curse upon them, that they’ll be alone forever and will never find someone who will love them as well as you have.  That’s probably not true if you find yourself saying that.  Anyway do you want to be with someone who is with you because you have successfully crushed their heart into submission with fear?  {You haven’t lost anything.}

Rule #6: You deserve nothing and are entitled to less.

Rule #7: Don’t try to kiss someone who tells you repeatedly that you should not.  I think it was hard for them to say that to you the first time.  If they begin crying or vomiting because you persist, this was probably really hard for them too.  They probably have some shit going on, or its just not vibing.

Rule #8: Ignoring Red Flags leads to near death experiences.
{‘In a relationship’ is a red flag.
Married with children is a red flag.
Still in high school is a red flag.
Schizophrenia is a red flag.}

Rule #9: Telling the girl that you love that “it’s over and will never happen again” is only honorable in the movies, because the audience knows what you really feel and that you have to save the world and don’t want her to get killed because she’ll be the target of your enemies.  In real life she’s just sad and is going to move on {sleep with others, get married and have children without you}.

Rule #10: The crazy person you become when you fall in love in seconds should not be in charge on what you say or do.  You should be locked away in a cabin until the infection passes.  And if it doesn’t burn the thing down.

Posted in Lists, New Work | 2 Comments

It is Sunday.  It is sunny.  There are couples riding about.  Long hair being blown about with smiles and carrying flowers.  Well fitted pants and snappy shoes, and fabrics that can be seen through by backlit Sun.

Partners, as they are called:

We’ll hit the farmers market, for fresh coconuts and to buy small terrariums or other potted succulents. 

I’d like a latte and a chocolate almond croissant.

But your diet!

I know, but it is Sunday!  I ran yesterday.

Maybe just an almond croissant.

(Then the poking at the growing belly.  Laughter

and laughter through self-directed disdain.)

What do we have left to talk about?

What do you want to talk about?

A sale or something to plan for dinner.

The project I am working on.

No, not now, it is Sunday, we are spending this day together.

I want to be by myself, but I also want to be with you.

You are being an asshole.

I feel like an asshole.

The sun is feeling really hot.

I don’t want to eat anymore.

I want to draw or play the piano.

Sure, do what ever you want to do.

But I want to spend the day with you.

Are you checking that person out?

No.  I just like the colors they are wearing.

Are you going to think about them while we have sex tonight?

We aren’t going to have sex tonight, I want to cut out my libido.

I would have been a castrati if I had a choice growing up.  I like the voice.  I wonder how that would impact my drive to work?

Don’t you believe in love anymore?

I do, more than anything, but what we are all doing, this is not love.

That does not mean that I do not love you.

No it does not.  I believe you.  I love you too.  But I don’t want to ride bikes around doing nothing anymore.

And I am getting fat sitting around watching Buffy with you.

And I hate myself because I am not the person you need me to be.

And I hate myself because I want you to be something you are not.

Remember Arthur and Guinevere after they broke up?  She in the monastery, he in doldrums of depression.  She kept the sword and he drank from the grail that his best friend and home-wrecker’s disciple had met death for.  After that, when he dies in the setting sun with a spear through his breast from his inbred son, his own sword torn through his son’s body, this is love to me.  The sun and blood, and the friend with the wound that would not heal, and the squire who chases ghosts and windmills, and the boat that carries his body to sea but leaves his heart to the land.  To me this is love.

Boyfriend, girlfriend, husband, wife, this is not for me.

My partner in life is the drop of dew on the wildflower, and the love that comes from dogs and friends as they bite or throw logs about and cuddle up when lonely or if brave enough to let me see their wounds.

Can I be that?

You have been so many times.

And you that?

We are right now.  Don’t let me eat anymore donuts today.

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Old to me, new to you

One particularly cold winter squirrels decided to nest in my window.  They would crawl behind the cage with cardboard and leaves and plastic bags.  They made more room by chewing through my screen.  At first they were afraid of me, and would be suddenly still when they’d see me watching.  She was particularly invested, she had a fondness for animals despite eating them.  She wanted to make pets of their coming children, I insisted that was self-serving and potentially irresponsible; She settled for feeding them on the rare days that I slept in.

One winter morning I woke to stretch.  It had been after a series of days that I had slept in way past a reasonable hour, clocking 10 to 12 hours of sleep a night.  This was the first morning in a row of few that I forced myself up early- an attempt to pull my life together and win.  So I would stretch and try and meditate a little, five minutes was the goal.  I watched the furry couple in the window.

One, the female I believe, was nested deep, only her eyes and little ears poking out.

Then Two, the second squirrel came through the edge of the cage, and forgive me for not being able to tell them apart, sexing squirrels is not a talent of mine.  I was expecting a fight; this had become common- invading squirrels looking for a sweet nest like the ones these had built.

There was no fight; this was Cornelius who had come.  We named him Cornelius.  I watched her stretch out a tiny claw, opening her little fingers, he came to her and she took his handsome head in her hand and pulled him into her nest for embrace- some cuddle time.  Nice Cornelius.

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A rare post

I don’t think I have ever written to my audience.  But considering that I have few, if any, visitors, save the consistent spam audience visiting me via porn sites and retailers, I will make an announcement:

I have posted the first draft of I’m Fine within the Novella section of this site.  It contains 9 chapters, all of which are in a mature draft save the final chapter which needs much revision.

If you scroll to these pages you will find that they have a side note in parenthesis complaining about formatting.  Formatting has been very important in the writing of I’m Fine, and wordpress has not been all too friendly with allowing me to transfer these documents in an agreeable way.

That’s ok I suppose.  It will mean that you will have to reread the text in its ideal structure when I have completed and printed copies.  Enjoy.  MJM

Posted in New Work | 1 Comment

Under My Thumb

The climb, if not absolutely overhanging, is less than by only a few degrees: 170, 175.  Any person shown the problem would say that the whole is thing is climbed upside down, which is true, but I point out those 5 to 10 degrees for they indicate the direction one should move: beginning in a cave and climbing up and out.

The following is the fine tuned beta I used and developed to send this project.  Naturally there are variations that may be more suitable for people of different sizes and strengths.  “Strength”, not in the sense of muscular capability, but in the assets of the climber; be them technique, balance, core-strength, height, wing-span, power, ability to read a sequence, flexibility, etc…  If you are intending to figure this problem out on your own, treat the following as a spoiler, read on only for directions to reach the problem, but once I sit below the start holds you should stop reading.

Getting There:
Take I-476 N to the Quakertown exit.  Take a left onto 663 N, follow this road until it merges with 313 E, follow 313 E through Quakertown, taking the gentle jog left to stay on 313 just past town center.  At 563 turn left to follow the road North.  Drive for a few miles.  Just after Boulder Rd is Harrisburg School Road, turn left.  Take the first right onto Kinzler Road.  At the deadend turn right, take note of the family who has been doing years of renovation on their house, they have a firewood pile to be envious of and an awesome outdoor chimney; you’ll pass the park entrance as the road bears right.  Just after driving under 563 there is a three car pull out on the left, if this lot is full continue 100 yards to the parking lot for the Frisbee golf course.

Walk back up the road, making sure to don your hunter’s orange if it is not a Sunday; walk past the gate, cross the shallow stream either by way of rock hopping or walking straight through on the concrete slab.  A fire-road of sorts takes you up towards a light green water tower.  A hundred yards before the tower there is a well beaten, but smaller trail that leads off to your left.  Take that.  Walking for less than a minute you come to the first climbable boulder.  It is ten feet at most, but I think of it as very important.  It is the sentry to this side of Haycock: the run and jump.  Some people think they should climb it at the end of the day with their crash pad still on their backs.  I don’t feel like I have earned entry until I send the goofy problem.  As the name indicates, it is a run and jump.  The top is a bad sloper, but the rock is diabase, so long as it is reasonably dry and cooler (30’s to 50’s) the friction will keep you on.  Once passing this trial, continue on the trail as it meanders through storm fallen trees and what not.   You’ll come to Hanger 18, which hosts many classic problems, skip them, you want to keep fresh for Under My Thumb.  Pass the climb Black Angus (V8) and follow the path into the “clearing” (it is filling in, but the change in canopy is obvious).  The path goes out and then there is a fork, turn left, after 5-10 minutes there is another fork, turn right onto the smaller trail, here you will reenter the woods.  To your left will be BoCow Boulder (V7) and when you walk a little further and down hill you will see Little Fluffy Clouds (V5).  Once you can see Little Fluffy you will be near the split for the Caves Trail.  The split is a little invisible, there is a two-rock cairn indicating the turn left.  Follow the widely spaced cairns and disappearing and reappearing trail that weaves up and down, around and over rocks.  You’ll eventually see a 15 foot face with obvious crack features.  This is a good V0 warm up.  Just below this problem on the trail are Dubec, Becdu, and the Scream; two, very frustrating but classic climbs and the Scream (which I have no opinion of).  The trail drops down to the left of these climbs.  About five more minutes of walking leads you to two well made cairns.  At the second, turn up and off the path towards an impression in the ground and many boulders just beyond.  You will come up just right of a boulder.  There is a climb here called High Jinx (V0) also a good warm up, also a little scary.  Continue past these and through the cave passing the chalk of Pele (V8) and Honeybun Arete (V2).  Just past Honeybun Arete climb up onto a 3’ boulder, jump to the next, clamber onto another, and continue making your way up and a little left, up hill.  In less than a minute you’ll see a living room sized boulder with a wide crack down the middle.  That is our beast.  The climb is on the far side, beneath the rock in the little cave made by the perch of the boulder upon his neighbors.

The Climb
Two crash pads, three is nice.

I begin low down, in the recesses of the cave.  There is an obvious serving plate sized flake for a start hold.

Lay low (there is a bread box sized rock that you can put your feet on while you adjust your position) on your high back with arms fully extended, the right hand holds the triangular feature of the flake, and the left holds in a convex under-cling.

My left toe box is jammed in the flake’s crack just left of my left hand.  I won’t hook with this toe so much as smear straight into the ceiling, as if performing a lay back, only we are upside down.  The knee of that left leg shifts ever so slightly right so that the hip shifts left.  (Some people ignore this clever toe hook, there is an eighth inch thick edge for that foot half a foot below the flake).

The right foot has a dime thin edge to also smear on.  There is often a tick mark there.  I do not edge on that foot hold, but also smear into it, but with more focus on the inside edge of the toe box.

Now give it some gas, because although the hand holds are big the move takes a little more than you would expect.  You are pulling your ass off the ground and slapping the left hand off the blank face of a 90 degree cube, then from that slap bumping the hand into a horizontal crack at the top of the cube (where it meets the ceiling).  The hold is good, but a bit slopey.

Keeping the right hand, wriggle the left toe out from the flake and place it on the half inch thick foot mid-flake.  The right foot comes to the edge of the flake just below the right hand and scums the side of the hold to keep the climber from swinging out.  This is enough to bring the right hand up into the same horizontal crack with that left hand.

Move quickly, it has only been three moves, but you need to keep some power.  You’ll have something of a rest in a moment.

Keeping the hands and the left foot, step as high as your elbows with the right foot.  There is a large slopey nubbin for the big toe, place the toe precisely and put pressure on the thing, you are going to turn knee cross your core, up and then against that rounded point in the ceiling.  The right hip will come up in this process.  This knee bar should be bomber, so don’t settle for less.  I had Tom hold me up so I could feel the knee bar just right when I was working the problem out four years ago.  And it is a little painful unless you can get your knee up really high.  I am not thrilled by the pain so I taped a pack of notecards together with duct tape, wrapped them in my cloth hunting cap and taped this to my right thigh.  I used to my small red journal with all my ideas, but the binding started to break from the abuse.

This is the rest so to speak, though I wouldn’t bother shaking out; and it has only been four moves, so don’t stop the flow.  You’ll be tempted to release the left toe from that half-inch edge, because you easily could, but don’t.  It is as important as the knee bar.  Some people keep the left hand in the horizontal crack.  My wing-span is not long enough for the next move if I do this, so I shift it to the blank face just left of my right knee.  I reach high so that all my fingers, my palm, and a portion of my wrist are palming the rock.

Then keeping the pressure on the knee bar and pushing down on that left big toe reach out for the split in the rock; incidentally also the end of the overhang.  The crack is good for that right hand, but you want the chunky sloper just left of it (it is a jug from this angle).  I find that I hit the crack first and bump my hand once, sometimes twice to the sloper.  The pressure on the left foot’s big toe is the key for readjusting the right hand.

Now for the meat of the problem.  Adjust that left hand so that it is down on the bottom edge of that face, now holding the rock like a sloper undercling.  Shift the knee out from the bar and be strong with both arms, there is a lot of compression in this move, not quite as severe, but like the reverse of an iron cross.  Cross the left foot over the right leg and place the toe on a very small pebble or chip.  It is nothing bigger than pea.

Swing the right foot, knee, hips, one hundred and eighty degrees round to the right and thrust the foot over and just right of the right hand into the V-notch made by the split in the rock.  Get it as high as it will go that first push, the foot should wedge between the two sides of the crack.

Congrats!  There are two limbs over the overhang.  Your body is going to swing some now, its ok.  Keep the right and left hands strong with the compression fierce.  The right foot can share some weight, but don’t let yourself sink too low or your butt will dab the crash pad just below you.

Your left leg will want to flag out far right, let it.  Do that serious back flag out towards the open air!  Actually, this is the best position to get that right foot higher in the crack.  How high?  Can you get it as deep as the knee?  Or further even?  The deeper the better.  I used to mess around with a little foot chip for the left toe near crotch once you’ve rotated, but that is no good.  The flag is easy, and with a little screaming the right foot shifts up nicely.

We are nearing the finish, so don’t bail if you’ve come this far.   I found practicing the next couple of moves before working the beginning gave me the confidence I needed to send.  Plus it is super fun for people climbing V2 or higher to work even if they are shut down by the rest of this; it is also great for climbers with fears of climbing high.

Release the left sloper under cling.  You will swing, but its nice, you got that right leg up there good right?  Between that and the right hand and a little core strength this is no problem.  Match the left hand with the right.  That way you straighten out so your head is in line with crack.  Pull in with your arms, digging down with that right leg, lock off and slap the sloper bulge on the arête of the face right of the crack with your right hand.  You might grab it first with you thumb up, I usually shift it to a thumbs down meat hook. 

Still strong in the gut?  Bring the left leg in and above the right.  Get it even higher than the other.  Get the right leg out and let that one flag.  Get the left leg as deep as your crotch.  Bring the left hand on to the same arête as the right.  This is a little bit of a battle.  Once I’ve pulled up a bit I usually stick my ass on the opposite face to take some pressure off before reaching for the juggy horizontal crack.

Yeah mother-fucker!  Match the hands, swing up the feet onto the face, then hand foot match, with the right foot.  Reach up with the right hand to a two inch incut groove, stand up and top out!

That is Under My Thumb.  I don’t like the song, or the Rolling Stones.  The boulder problem gets only one star out of three in the guide book, but I think it is the best climb I have ever seen.  It has taken me four years to send.  Though I only really committed to working it a few times four years ago and then a half dozen trips in the last two months.

Vocabulary:

Arête: “a small ridge-like feature or sharp outward facing corner on a steep rock face.” [Wikipedia] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glossary_of_climbing_terms
Beta: information about the movement of a climb
Crash-pad: open and closed celled foam encased in a cover that unfolds as a landing surface for climbers who are bouldering.  They usually wear the pads on their backs as they hike.
Flake: “a thin slab of rock detached from the main face” [Wikipedia]
General-endurance: as the name indicates, one’s ability to keep going.
Knee Bar: a move where the climber wedges their leg from toe to knee between to rocks to help hold body weight.
Layback: a move usually done on a crack or flake where the climber has hands pulling in opposition to feet pushing.  Think of climbing a coconut tree using this technique- the butt sticks out, as opposed to the technique where one pinches the tree with the insides of the feet and butt is close into the tree.
Lockoff: pull up and keep the arm in as you move the other.
Power: ability to use strength (often for explosive movement); muscle recruitment
Power-endurance: ability to use power repeatedly over time
Problem: a climb, specific to bouldering
Send: successful climb of a problem or route (rope climbing climb) maintaining the conditions prescribed to the style of climbing
Sloper: “a sloping hold with very little positive surface.  A sloper is comparable to palming a basketball.” [Wikipedia]
Strength: Isolated muscular ability
Strengths: (as a climber) the tools you have to work with, either a result of work or predisposition.
Toebox: mostly around the big toe, but also extending down the inside and outside edge of the toes.
Undercling: a hold you grab from below, with palms up.
Wing-span: (aka “ape index”) length of your arms (or length of your arms in relation to your height)
V0-V16: boulder problem grades.  The difficulty of these problems begin with V0 and continue to V16+.  A V0 is already a very challenging climb.  By nature bouldering is difficult.  “V” stands for “ver

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