I asked Boulder Quest shodan and senior student Thomas Luce to contribute his wisdom to our blog, based on what he is studying right now toward his second-degree black belt. He responded with this insightful essay into the nature of victory, a worthy topic for a student striving toward mastery!

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When I was invited to guest-blog, I decided to focus on the book Life-Lessons from Combat Generals. It may seem like combat maneuvers are pretty specific in applicability, but we can learn a lot about ourselves and our lives by looking at the wisdom gained by generals in battle.

As a society we have mixed feelings about war, and some may find it hard to look at men of war as role-models. On the other hand, there are some good metaphors in large scale conflicts. If we assert that ultimate truth is in fact universal, then why would truth not reveal itself even in war?

To explore what these generals found, I first need to define the terms "strategy" and "tactic". A strategy is a system of operating that is separate from the specifics of any individual encounter. A tactic is a plan involving details relating to current conditions in a specific encounter. To give a warfare-based example, it could be said that a strategy is to take and control high-ground, while the methods used to accomplish that in a specific battle would be the tactics (all the specific considerations relating to troop availability, terrain, weather, etc).

"Strategy without tactics is the slowest route to victory. Tactics without strategy is the noise before defeat." -- Sun Tzu

Throughout all our lives we are constantly making plans and goals. From the moment we wake up, we plan our day. From the moment we move away from parents, we plan careers. From the moment we start families, we plan futures. Setting goals, planning, and working through those plans is the foundational method from which all action is born. Sometimes the process lasts only seconds, sometimes years or decades, but it is always happening. It behooves us therefore to know the times when large plans (strategies) and small ones (tactics) are more appropriate.

I have a friend who is the ultimate idealist, all strategy and no tactics. We all have friends like this, the person who has the highest aspirations, and conducts their lives as if their vision is ultimate and has already been realized...
If only the rest of the world would get on board... They have a great strategy, but don't know when to put that aside and actually get something done. In the western "enlightened" world, we call this a good thing. Someone working for high ideals is the best of the best, even if no results are actually generated.

I have another friend who is just the opposite, all tactics and no strategy. He is always working harder and harder just to get by. Every problem is a personal assault, and he's always scrambling. He has no larger plan, so he's always "on the defensive". Although he may never "lose", he'll also never win.

It breaks my heart. Both of these people know each other, and hate each other. But they have the answer that the other one needs.

The people who actually get things done in the world are the ones who balance strategies with tactics. Although they may have high goals, they don't tie themselves down to those goals in the face of adversity. They look at whatever it is that is holding them back, study it, learn it, and then come up with a new plan for overcoming it. After that, they throw that plan away, and resume their strategy or highest ideal.

Balancing these two things can be tricky because it's easy to trick ourselves into believing that the thing that we are working on at any given instant is the most important thing that we could possibly be working on. It's rarely true. Wouldn't it be great if you could set some high ideal, come up with a plan to achieve that ideal, and then actually do it? If every decision in your life was one that brought you closer to success?

One problem that people like to talk about lately is the economic crisis. There are a lot of people all over the world who have "the"
answer to it. But anything consisting of trillions of variables and millions of actors can't possibly be solved with a single tactic. To imagine that doing just one or two things will fix a problem of that size is ludicrous! On the other hand, even with a detailed strategy, do you really think that each step will just fly through with no resistance? If you do, you're setting yourself up for certain failure.
However, if you try to plan out every detail ahead of time, you will only be wasting your time and energy.

The only solution is to have a goal, develop a strategy that moves you toward that goal against all opposition, and when opposition arises, overcome it one step at a time with appropriate tactics. Let your enemies determine how they will be defeated.

A friend of mine and I started a business with this very goal. The strategy is simple: provide a mechanism that gives people the space to feel good about money, letting them develop their own strategies for success. The tactics we use to get from here to there are being determined by our users, our competition, our supporters and detractors. Our movements towards our goal will, and must, always be determined moment to moment. How sad it would be if we set out with some grand vision and no substance, or a scheme with no direction.

Think of something in your life that you want. Something big. Think about how you would get from here to there a year or two at a time. That’s your strategy. Then take some action. Inevitably everything will change. When it does, just take a breath, look around you, and come up with a plan for just this change. That’s a tactic. Once you've gotten past that, look at your grand plan (strategy), forget the tactic you just used, and repeat. You might be surprised. This is the process of war-winning generals, and more deeply, it is the method of creating success. Let your obstacles defeat themselves by suggesting tactics to you, and then check in after each battle to ensure you are still following your strategy. In this way a person can accomplish world-changing feats. In all other ways we are subject to the tactics of those making changes.

Thomas Luce
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Well-stated, Thomas!

Hello friends,

Many of you kindly replied that you would comment on some samples from my workbook concept. I was surprised at some of the voices that pitched in - wonderful to have feedback from a diverse group.

For this sample, I'm experimenting with some new ideas in writing style, so what I'd really like to know is how this passage makes you feel. What thoughts and emotions does it create, if any? Please be honest. If you think I might be embarrassed or upset by what you have to say, let me assure you that I'd rather you say it when it's a blog post than years from now when it's a book. Besides, I can always delete your comment. :)
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If you are reading this book, you are a very lucky person.

It might not feel like a big deal if the act of picking up the book wasn’t a big exertion. You might not usually think about all the power you have that allows you to acquire and read a book.

First of all, you had to be a human being. Whatever your ideas are about how a human being comes to exist, there is a certain awe in the recognition that the energies which became you could have been other things. Out of all the possibilities, you are a human being. Not only that, but if you are somehow understanding these words, then you are a relatively healthy human being blessed with a strong mind. There are many humans on Earth right now who do not have the health, focus, or intelligence to understand these words, due to age, illness, malnutrition, or extreme survival conditions distracting them.

Secondly, to read this book, you had to put some effort into education, language, and literacy. Whether or not you were the very best student, you stuck with it enough to really learn to read and understand language at a sophisticated level. There are many humans who turn their back on literacy because of more pressing needs or confusion about what is important in life. With the blessings of your teachers and guides, you acquired some education and understanding. Maybe all this seemed automatic to you, but that would only be because you had a good attitude about it from the beginning – because you expected to develop yourself into a mature and intelligent being.

And then, with all these good conditions in place, you had to encounter this book. This is a really rare event. Various sources estimate that between 20 million and 100 million books have been written. If you read a book a week for 60 years, you would read 3000 books – a tiny fraction of everything written. To find a book that can change your life for the better requires both discernment to narrow the field and good fortune to encounter the correct book.

Now you have arrived with all these advantages, navigated through and around all the books that couldn’t possibly help you, and found this book that could possibly make a big and beautiful difference in your life. Of course, it still isn’t a sure thing, but it’s definitely worth a determined effort to read and contemplate these ideas. This very moment, in this very special human lifetime, could be the time when you find the breakthrough that you need.
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Hello friends,

I'm working on writing a meditation workbook based on the program we teach at the Boulder Quest Center. It would be fun to run parts of the book by you and get your input. If I posted sections of the book here, would you be willing to give feedback?

We pushed on. By now, a few people had met us coming back, saying, “Don’t go. It’s too windy.” Now we met a ranger on the edge of the insane cliff called the Narrows. She was sitting down and saying she wasn’t going on. A family member was with her trying to convince her to proceed, and she was saying no way.

We chatted for a few moments about the weather. We cautiously proceeded while she continued discussing it with her climbing companion. At last, we reached the end of the Narrows to witness the Homestretch, a near-vertical crack running up the last 200 feet to the summit. We had been exposed to the icy wind for over 3 hours now, and above 13,000 feet for the last 2 hours. We could see the summit and the rest of the route clearly from where we sat, but I noticed that my whole body had started shaking from the combination of exhaustion, adrenaline, and hypothermia. My hands quivered and burned intensely, coming back from the numbness of mild frostbite even through my gloves, and I felt dizzy. Shannon looked at me, looked at the wall, and shook her head.

I gave her the thumbs up to indicate my agreement. We had climbed Longs Peak. We were done. I checked the altitude meter – 14,050 feet. I took a couple of photos, and we started the way back… through the Narrows and turbine-rock, to the top of the Trough. I felt an overwhelming sense of relief to be headed toward lower elevations while I was still intact.

The chokestone at the top of the Trough posed a problem. Down-climbing is a little more awkward than climbing up, and found myself in an awkward spot clinging to the side of the cliff face, unable to go forward or back. I paused to consider my predicament, and another climber called out to me. “Are you stuck?”

I couldn’t believe it – I haven’t been stuck climbing something since I was a little kid. But, I was indeed stuck. “Yeah,” I called out. He climbed partway up and made a brace with his body so I could use him to transition to another ledge. I made it off the stone and marveled at how much I was losing my faculties. My hands had become claws, my balance was questionable, and I was having trouble seeing clearly.

We scampered down the Trough, trying not to create rockslides and dodging other people’s rock slides. We ground across the Ledges, still exposed to the intense wind, and by the time we passed back over the roaring 70 mph lip of the Keyhole, everything in our bodies hurt.

Finally, descending the wall that leads to the Keyhole, I started to regain some intelligence again. My hands thawed out, my brain thawed out, and it became evident that we were going to make it back. I reflected on how I had experienced everything I came for – the intensity, vastness, and power of a big mountain. I just hadn’t realized how much it would hurt.

Safely back at the Boulderfield, we re-gathered cached gear and took stock. We were still 6 miles from the car, and very tired. Shannon wanted to push hard to the car before her legs stiffened up – I wanted to continue my meditation practice with the mantras I had intended earlier. We agreed to separate – the way down was clear blue skies, mellow wind by comparison, and easy navigation. She set off for the car, and I spent about 30 minutes in meditation and recitation.

I started the long hike back. As I went, I recited mantras, stopped for photos of chipmunks, pika, and marmots, and retrieved the water bottles I cached on the way up. It was fun, and I tried to enjoy the scenery and the game of finding the water bottles even though my legs and back were screaming at me.

At least I wasn’t cold anymore. The sun continued to warm the day, and as I dropped below the last snowfields, it got up into the 60s. I put my gloves, hat, and jacket away and kept going.

At 11,000 feet, I found Mary enjoying the sunny day on a big rock. It felt so good to see her! She was happy and healthy, and let me know Shannon had passed by 20 minutes prior. We set off down the mountain as I told my story and she shared hers – a much more graceful and relaxed account of a day on the mountain. While I was struggling to stay alive, she was singing, napping, and meandering through the high hills. She sat by waterfalls, ate apricots, and did a crossword puzzle. We decided that she should do a television show on how to enjoy yourself in nature, as opposed to trying to conquer it. “Woman in the Wild” – like The Crocodile Hunter meets Martha Stewart.

I reflected on the enormous pain and risk of the climb and wondered why we glorify these things. It seems like our culture is obsessed with the extremes, but it’s clear that the extremes are no fun. Of course, it’s possible to overcome the extremes with enough planning, preparation, practice, conditioning, focused intention, divine intervention… but why do it for mere recreation or bragging rights? The folks on TV do it for a paycheck. I did this climb to see what was there and to push myself to the limits of my outdoors skills. I accomplished my goals. I reminded myself that I wouldn’t need to do that again.

And how could I recommend it to others? Such an extreme exertion and danger makes no sense without a very compelling sacred mission. I can hardly justify my own journey, except that it brought me to a transformative recognition of how I relate to risk, work, and identity.

I completed my mantra recitations with the Dedication of Merit, a mantra whereby one states that any benefit created by this work is for the purpose of making the world a better place. No other purpose is acceptable. Did I make the world a better place by climbing Longs Peak? I’m a little clearer, a little cleaner, more satisfied and aware of my place in the world. I appreciate comfort and intelligence more now. I’m a little more focused on what I need to do. May all of those attributes be put into service of a greater good.

I was starting to get beat down by the exhaustion and wind, but Shannon was very encouraging and kept reminding me to take it a few rocks at a time. We eventually reached the top of the Keyhole, and we were greeted with the two-thousand foot cliff behind it, 70 mph winds over the lip, and the Ledges off to the left - the series of interconnected rock ledges that traverse the west face of the mountain over a stunning drop. It's like a real-life Mario Bros. level.

Shouting to be heard through the wind, we pushed around the corner to where the winds were only 40 mph again. Unfortunately, now the mountain blocked the sun, so we were cold, no question about it. On the other hand, I'd now made it further than ever before, and I was invigorated by the Ledges. This was my whole reason to climb Longs Peak - I wanted to see the huge drops and dramatic rocks.

When I sustained exertion for too long, I could feel my stomach start to knot up, and I knew from past experience that this was the beginning of altitude sickness for me. I stopped, breathed deeply, and the feeling would pass. I could keep my body under control and warm if I was careful and paying attention. I couldn't eat anymore, unfortunately, because of the altitude, so I'd had my last food at the Boulderfield.

The Ledges went on for so long that I got disoriented and thought maybe we were almost to the summit. Hah! As we reached the Trough, the next mega-section, I asked someone coming down if that was the Homestretch, the last section. He laughed. "Oh, no..."

The Trough is a climbing section that goes up from 13,200 feet to 14,000 feet. If it were down at a nice altitude like 7000 feet, it would be a thoroughly satisfying adventure all by itself. It would also help if it wasn't constantly windy and freezing cold, and if a person hadn't already been hiking for 6 hours at high altitude. Ice coated many of the rocks - even in August - and climbers above would knock off rocks that would come bouncing down the canyon. My hands alternating between painful and numb, even through my gloves.

We spent a bit less than an hour making gradual tortuous progress up the Trough. Everybody was slow here, grinding along and trying to keep our spirits up. The views were amazing, when you could remember to enjoy them, as we could see over all nearby peaks and far into the distance. The drop below the Trough is thousands of feet to lakes and snow fields. Still, in truth, it was hard to enjoy because my body hurt so much.

Near the top of the Trough is the chockstone, as they call it, which is a big boulder that seals the canyon of the Trough. You have to climb up the stone, and although it's only a few feet, it was real climbing with handholds and care. Again what would be trivial for in good times, and fun in pleasant times, required some real thought and assessment up here. One group watching me climb it decided to turn around at that point. Shannon followed me up, and we were both amazed to look back down over what we had ascended. Amazed at our abilities, and scared at the notion of having to climb back down it later.

Shannon pulled ahead while I adjusted my gear, but the Trough seemed to terminate in empty space. The backside of the Trough is a cliff of at least 2000 feet, maybe 3000 feet. She lurched to a stop when her eyes fell on the vast nothing, and I could see the stunned expression of surprise on her face. "Where do we go from here?" she called back to me in the ever-present wind.

"Turn left," I shouted back, directing her to the beginning of the Narrows, which are basically a stone catwalk along the super-high cliff. I climbed up to her location and we began the trek across the Narrows.

The Narrows are traversing the face of the cliff, even going downhill slightly, but they are just wide enough for one person to walk comfortably. Anyone passing someone has to slow down, use handholds, and snuggle by. The wind was still pounding us at 40 mph with 60+ mph gusts, so you had to keep your knees bent or a sudden gust would knock you down. Luckily, it mostly threw you against the rock face and not off into the void. I lost my balance a couple of times, and one occasion got such vertigo that I toppled over. I witnessed another guy have the same thing and fall right off the mountain… luckily only 5 below to another ledge, where he landed on his pack and seemed okay.

I had gotten distracted from my mantra practice, but I remembered now and sat down to do a few more, invoking protection and inner judgment. This is the part where you have to make hard decisions or face hard consequences.

The wind got even more ridiculous on the Narrows. Although most of it is a catwalk, in one place you have to climb through a whole about 5 feet up. It seemed like the entire atmosphere was being crammed through that hole. As I tried to climb against it, the air jetting through at me was moving at least 100 mph. It was so intense that it felt liquid, like being plunged into an icy stream, and I could barely pull myself against it. I managed a rather undignified slither over the rock upstream.

Shannon started the climb and got three-quarters up but couldn’t push against the wind anymore. I braced myself with three limbs, wedged in between rocks, and reached out a hand. She grabbed it, we both pulled, and she moved up through the slipstream too fast, slamming her head into the ceiling of rock overhead. She was knocked silly for a moment and dropped back down, but we couldn’t because of the wind noise. After she regained orientation, I helped pull her through and we checked her head – no bleeding, but a bruise to the spirit... (to be concluded in part 3)

The summary is, this trip is long and hard.

We got up around 12:30 am to get prepped - we were staying at a friend's place and moving out that day, so we had to do a bit of cleaning before enjoying a big breakfast of potatoes, eggplant, onions, and ground beef. We hit the road around 1:45 am, swung by the dojo to see if anyone was planning on joining us, and scrambled to a 24-hour convenience store at the last minute to buy some potato chips we had forgotten.

Leaving Boulder finally around 2:15 am, we rolled in to the East Longs trailhead at 3:00 am. Amazingly, there were several other cars arriving at that time, and the parking lot was full. We scrambled to find a parking space and compete with the other 10 or 15 hikers prepping for their climb. It was about 40 degrees there, at 9400 feet. I tried to send a text message to update my Facebook status - the phone said it had 4 bars of service, but then when I hit send on the message, it would drop to zero bars, fail the message, and then go back to 4 bars. After a few maddening retries, I gave up.

I conducted some Buddhist rituals for purification and protection, hit the bathroom, and then signed in at the register with Shannon. Mary was in the car, sleeping, with the intent to wake up later and climb partway, meeting us on our return trip.

We officially started the hike at 3:15 am, with about 5 other people. I wondered if we'd be in a crowd the whole way up - turned out that different hiking paces and the enormous space of the mountain let folks spread out for most it, although we saw people every 10 minutes. I was periodically trying to take a moment to do mantras, and it was sometimes hard to time it for privacy.

There was plenty of moonlight to see, so we didn't have any artificial lights on, which I really enjoy in the wilderness. We were the only people, apparently, to realize that the artificial lights were unnecessary and annoying, and so we were constantly blinded by other's headlamps and flashlights. When alone, we enjoyed the quiet darkness of the Goblin Forest at 10,000 feet.

We stopped every half-mile to drink water, take photos, rest, and say a couple more mantras. Each full mile I also cached water for the trip back by picking a memorable rock and burying a water bottle under it This helped my 30-lb pack get lighter, though it didn't feel like it as we went up and up.

The Goblin Forest gave way to the treeline at around 11,000 feet. The first wisps of light were starting to illuminate the sky - it was around 4:45 am. We were making a comfortable pace, covering 2 miles and 1500 vertical feet in 90 minutes. The goal was to avoid getting soaked in sweat because I knew it would be cold up top, and getting there with wet clothing and an exhausted body was what turned me around at the Boulderfield last summer.

We trekked up the valley that leads toward Chasm Lake, caching water bottles in rock cairns, and watching the dawn break fabulously over a 10,000 foot cloud sea. The views were stunning, but we had to keep moving or we got cold. It had dropped into the mid-30s by now, and there was a light breeze.

We chatted with others on the trail occasionally - we never saw any of them again. I think many turned back before the summit. Maybe others passed us by in the confusion of high altitude.

Just before the Boulderfield, at around 12,000 feet, the wind really picked up. It was steadily blowing at 20 mph, and gusting up to 40 or 50 mph, blowing sand in the eyes. It was still in the 30s, so that was rough. At least the sun was up now, providing a little bit of warmth when we could take shelter. We had jackets, hats, and gloves - others were in shorts and T-shirts and were starting to re-think their "summer hike".

We battled the wind up to the Boulderfield at 12,800 feet. The last mile across the Boulderfield was constant wind in the face. The sun finally did its job and warmed us back up to maybe 40 degrees. Still, we were in good spirits. The views were stunning, the space vast, and we weren't experiencing any altitude sickness or hypothermia. I had also cached or drank two-thirds of my water, so my pack was lighter, and my mantra practice was going well up the mountain. I conducted the Kuji Kiri nine-cut grid facing the enormity of the Diamond (the rock climbing wall front face of the summit) and I felt bold.

We discovered that the outhouses at the Boulderfield, though a welcome luxury complete with toilet paper, do not block the wind, so the necessarily exposed skin in the 40-degree wind was problematic. The latches were also broken, so while one hand attended to the purpose, the other hand held the door shut. My hands went numb for the first time.

The wind was now a steady 40 mph, which was wearing us down a bit. We sat behind a rock to hide from it and I spent some time in meditation, connecting to this environment and the enormous task ahead, trying to make a sacred experience out of it and not just a long difficult trudge.

I packed my lighter summit pack and cached my main pack. We set out from the Boulderfield at 8:15 am - toward the later side of acceptable, but still a reasonable time to go. I wouldn't have wanted to go any earlier anyway because we needed what feeble warmth the sun was providing.

We began the climb to the famous Keyhole, a strangely shaped hole in the rock at the top of the wall surrounding the Boulderfield. The trail stops at the Boulderfield - the ascent to the Keyhole is just boulders piled on top of each other, so you are rock-hopping uphill from 12,800 feet to around 13,200 feet. It's exhausting and requires care, so we would hop three or four rocks, rest, hop a few more, rest... and so on and so on. It took I think 45 minutes to cross that section alone, and the wind just got worse as went. Some people had already reached the Keyhole and decided to turn back, warning us that the wind was ridiculous... (to be continued)

I came across a great article today and it struck me how much business has deepened in the past few decades. I think we went through a period of time where personal fulfillment and positive impact on the world took a backseat to the almighty dollar. This article on perseverance and mindset reflects the changes we all need to recognize as valuable to continue the promised transitions of the 21st century.

Labels: business, perseverance, success