Up Where We Belong
Mike Ditka and Clint walking during a clear winter night and getting teary-eyed from the beauty of it all, or maybe it was from the cold breeze.
We all get older. The great thing with age is that we gain experience, and with experience we learn a lot. We gain skills, and better yet, we learn from choices we’d rather not make again. We learn from our successes, but we learn more from our failures. All of this knowledge truly is priceless. Despite this treasure we have inside us, we question our abilities. Sometimes we get rattled. There comes a time that despite what we have accomplished, we wonder if we are where we belong.
One day Mike Ditka and I were out in the country, when we came across big bull. It had long horns. It had short, curly orange hair that turned to freckles and then white. This bull was tall and wide. It had a brass ring in its nose that brought out the flecks of amber in its blood-colored eyes. Mike went to shaking and fell flat to the ground. Soon he was cowering in the safety of the pickup truck, while we cautiously moved away. With the bull barely visible in the distance, Mike still trembled, vibrating like a jitterbug sander. His eyes were locked on me. Without words, I knew exactly what he was thinking, “I’m bold. I’m confident. I have no fear. How did this happen?”
I recognized this feeling because I had it about 10 years earlier. I was standing atop a dome on a historic building with the intention to inspect the monumental sculpture at the peak. As I glimpsed toward the sculpture, the building superintendent suggested looking at the beauty of the city stretching out below. I did. That is when the feeling hit. “I’m bold. I’m confident. I have no fear. Why are my knees shaking? How did this happen?” Suddenly I had a fear of heights. It came on abruptly, and stayed with me.
A couple months ago, renowned artist, master screenprinter, curator, and creator of mega-murals, Rick Sinnett asked me to join him on a project painting a grain elevator in rural central Oklahoma. I jumped at the chance. It took weeks for things to line up, so I tried to prepare my body both for the strength I felt would be needed and for the temperatures we would be facing each day. I also began to prepare my mind by visualizing what the process might be like.
A week before we began work, we visited the grain elevator and inspected the safety equipment that we would be using. I tried on the harness. Rick educated me on the equipment and further explained the process. I looked up at the grain elevator. He asked how felt about everything. I responded with something along the lines of “I am excited” and “I thought the grain elevator would be bigger.”
The grain elevator and the artist Rick Sinnett.
Soon we were on site, and the romance of the big project that was going to give me my confidence back and rid me of my fear of heights was no longer in the safety of the future. Things got real, real fast. Covered in layers of socks, shirts, coats, and wearing our harnesses, we barely fit into the tiny personal elevator that took us each up the dark and narrow shaft of the grain elevator interior. Once atop the structure and 120 plus feet in the air, we were securing ourselves to ropes and drilling anchors to support the next needed ropes. These would be the ones that we were dependent upon, as we manipulated our grigris going up and down the wall. We would be standing along with our paints and tools on the Sky Climber, a lifting suspended platform. These ropes would be our personal security, in case something unpredicted happened to the Sky Climber.
Once everything was secure, we performed a few tests. Back on the ground, we climbed the a ladder to get atop the 36 feet of scaffolding. We attached ourselves to one rope for the initial climb and then attached to our newly anchored ropes. Using the Sky Climber we went up a couple dozen feet. We practiced synchronizing all the steps we would need to take repeatedly in the coming days, including starting and stopping the motors to ascend and descend. In all honesty, Rick was making the time to ensure I was acclimated to this new experience.
I snapped a quick picture of the view from the top of the grain elevator, as I assisted artist Rick Sinnett in securing anchors for our chains and ropes.
The second day was full of measuring. Rick takes the time to make sure all of the measurements are correct and aligned. A small mistake 65 feet up can be a much bigger mistake at 100 feet up. On this day another artist, Jonah, joined us. As we worked more from the Sky Climber, I could tell the fear of heights was still with me, but I felt firmly in control. Unfortunately, I was also getting a little boat-sick due to the subtle and constant swaying of the platform.
Upon one decent the wheel of the platform snagged the grain elevator causing us to shift askew. I felt my shoulders move suddenly backward, and my feet slide forward. I was nowhere near falling, but the sensation filled my body. I was shook. I am unsure if I was able to cover how rattled I was, but in my mind I covered it bravely.
That night I was awakened by nightmares repeatedly. I was falling even in my sleep. The next morning I was up early. I got ready, checked my things obsessively. On the drive to grain elevator, I had an anxiety attack and was fully covered in sweat despite the frigid temperatures. Rick greeted me with a warm “hey man,” and I replied with a “Rick, I gotta tell you something. . .” and then continued to unload my anxieties on him. Rick calmly said, “Okay, let see how it goes. Do you still want to do it?” I replied in the affirmative. Rick talked me through the day, offered suggestions and encouragement. He patiently waited, as I centered myself each time that we boarded the platform. When I left the grain elevator that evening, I was genuinely sad that the day was over. I had an obligation the next day at a market. As I talked to people and sold paintings, my mind would drift to the grain elevator, and I was missing it.
Mapping out sun rays with artist Rick Sinnett and Jonah. Soon I would be at the other side of the beams when they needed to shine west.
Over the next two weeks we would be interrupted by gale force wind gusts, an arctic blast, and a snow storm, but we continued on and ultimately completed the mega mural in the time that Rick had allotted.
Rick designed, painted, and orchestrated the completion of a captivating mural that is perfect for its location. I had the privilege of helping and learning from Rick.
I don’t think adults, especially middle-aged adults, get the opportunity often enough to feel like they have honored themselves by rising to a challenge. I do not think the size of the challenge matters, it will always be personal. I have never liked the idea of pride or self-congratulations, even so I have the feeling that I honored my own potential. I know I am a better version of myself today because of Rick.
(Thanks Rick!)
Nearly complete mega mural by Rick Sinnett in Cashion, Oklahoma.
Maybe it is time for Mike Ditka and I to take a ride in the country again. Maybe we can walk by the bull, at a respectable distance.