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【小編寄語】
每天，我們似乎都在趕時間。嫌網速不夠快，感覺車開得太慢，連吃飯也抱怨上菜太拖沓……我們總是緊繃著神經，步履匆匆地為生活奔波。卻不知道，因為一路快跑追趕，我們往往錯過了道路兩旁美麗的風景。試試看，讓你的生活節奏慢下來。用享受的心態享用美餐，用沐浴的感覺享受陽光，用輕松自在的心情打發時間，也許，你會發現生活中許多不曾被你發現的快樂。
I believe in the importance of pace. I grew up in a frenetic household, both parents working jobs that demanded their attention 24/7. I was little and fast and rushed around, and I still have that person inside me, always at risk of moving too quickly, missing the connection, making mistakes.
The forest behind our house offered a peaceful respite. My passion for the vertical world took me from tall trees in my backyard to climbing steep cliffs and crags. As a teen, I was moving easily over the landscapes of the American West and was drawn to higher summits. When I was 19, I learned something called the “rest step” from an old mountain climber named Paul Petzoldt. He advised me to rest in the middle of each step completely, but briefly. The rest step, which I still practice today, allows me to walk or climb with little effort. I can move very quickly yet still find a pause in every step.
The awareness of pace I owe to my teacher has served me whether I am seeking the world’s highest summits, sharing my love for the mountains with others or kneeling to look my son, Gus, in the eye when he has a question.
It serves me as I drive, adjusting my speed to gain a bit of calm and reach my destination only minutes behind the “record time” a faster lane might provide. It serves me at home where we maintain a tradition of gathering each night at the dinner table to eat and talk to each other.
In times of crisis, pace comes to my aid. Another of Petzoldt’s lessons was when faced with an emergency, sit down, collect yourself, make a plan. When needs seem most urgent — even life-threatening — the practice of slowing down offers calm and clarity.
In 1987, I was in Pakistan to climb Gasherbrum II, one of the world’s highest peaks. We were a small group and it was a very big mountain. Our expedition faced more than its share of difficulty: A long storm wiped out most of our food rations and an avalanche devastated our camp, obliterating our tents. One of our party developed altitude sickness; blood poisoning threatened another. In the face of each disaster, we carefully developed a new plan. Snow caves replaced lost tents. Soups replaced full meals. Eventually we climbed slowly to the top, then made our way safely down.
Concentrating on how I move through the world is important. It’s why I reach mountain summits and life goals with energy to spare.
There is magic in any faith. Every once in a while, rushing about, my belief in pace rises up, slows me down and grants me a view of a sunset, a smile from a stranger or a conversation with a child. I owe these moments to what I learned from an old mountain climber and have practiced ever since.
Phil Powers is the executive director of the American Alpine Club. He has made dozens of mountaineering expeditions to Alaska, Asia and South America since he began climbing as a boy in Oklahoma. Powers has written two books on mountain-climbing and lives in Denver with his wife and children.
