It has been two years since my good friend and I have been planning a friendiversary. We started this talk when we realized that we had been friends for 15 years. We had done so much together. We had worked together in my non-profit arts company, touring, producing, and planning. We had partied together at nightclubs in the San Francisco Bay Area and Burning Man. We had traveled together and surfed, dived, bouldered, climbed, hiked, camped, and snorkeled together. It wasn’t until we realized that we also loved to ski together that the plan came together for our friendiversary.
Anyone who skis knows how rare it is to find someone who is a good match for you on the slopes. If you are a bit too slow or fast for your ski partner, the day can lose momentum fast. We were thrilled to find out that there was yet another sport we enjoyed doing together.
People don’t tend to celebrate friendiversaries. But good friends see you traverse so many versions of your life. They see the patterns. They see your impressive strengths and your limiting habits. If the relationship is strong enough, they can reflect these back to you.
We chose a few days during the week and came up to Tahoe. In the cozy cabin, I asked him if he could hold a vision for me, and I would offer a vision for him. He thought about it and offered that he had seen me decide on something and actualize it repeatedly. Over and over again I created and recreated myself. He would hold a vision for me to be more at peace and more aware of my progress. I had achieved so much yet was always wanting.
I understood his words to mean that I approached my life as a football player, pushing against a football training sled. There may be another way.
We decided to celebrate with a half tab of acid on the slopes to push our second day of skiing over the top. The acid I chose was more of a body high rather than super psychedelic visuals. The sun bathed me in honey-golden light as the experience took flight while I sat on a chair lift. The snow-laden trees and windswept sparkling slopes were profoundly beautiful to see.
I took a seat within myself. Careerwise, I was painting outside of the lines. I would need to accept a life of less predictability.
As I carved down the mountain, I felt myself drawing as a tattoo artist on the skin of the mountain. There was ease - a great gentleness in my body and motions. Far from the football training sled, I wondered, “Is this way possible for me?”
This peak experience on the peak was a gift from Earth as if to say, “I contain this too.”
I bow, overwhelmed with this bliss. Amazed that this too is possible.