give it hell

I may be 23 and done with college, but my formative years are still in their prime. For some people my age, it may be that they've established themselves in their area of study, occupation, philosophies. Yes, I have molded into shapes that will not change in some of these areas. But when I see different types of personalities, experiences, joy, pain, etc., I can't help but continue to second-guess my position and think critically about...well, my thinking. (This, after all, is the definition of "critical thinking".)

I've met people in my life, especially at a younger age, who have undoubtedly made impressions on me. As I grow older, despite my own philosophies being challenged as I mentioned above, the concentration of human interactions which make me stop in my tracks and do some reconsidering become more sparse as I stand more firmly on my own two philosophical feet with time. However, I met someone in Whistler who caused me to redefine passion and charisma and commitment.

Willy Bassin was our section chief. Willy is from Ontario and is half-Swiss. He is the one of the most passionate people I've ever met in the arena of ski racing. He is an ex-racer himself. He's spent time all around the world including Switzerland, working venues and coaching athletes of all levels, including Didier Cuche. Throughout my tenure at Whistler, Willy pushed me to wake up every day and interact with my full attention. He led by example when one of us leaned on a shovel. After a twelve hour day when crews were descending the course to take the boots off of their worn feet, Willy would be standing on the back side of an A-net system shoveling out the foot. He'd then be in the village by night attending the medals ceremony, having a beer at the Swiss house, etc., only to be the first person back on the hill in the morning saying, "Hey, morning! How's it going today? Here's our program for the morning..." He immediately knew everyone by name and always acknowledged them in an upbeat manner no matter how exhausted and weather-beaten they were. He carried a vibe about him that exemplified commitment to the task at hand - whether it was acknowledging you over a drink in the village or going on the fourth hour of shoveling out the track in a blizzard. There was no phoniness.

It made me think about how I feel about certain things that I am "passionate about". And I recognize that I've got my head in a few different directions right now. It was therefore refreshing and inspiring to hang out with Willy day in and day out, who had to be bribed and convinced to take a day off by the course chiefs. Willy was and is passionate about ski racing, high-level competition and athleticism, and the serfdom that comes with putting on a ski race (let alone an Olympic race). The experiences and investment he has made have brought him to this particular place in his life which cause him to throw off a vibe that is intoxicating and invigorating to those who are sweating through Smartwool beside him, those who don't have anyone to give orders to but everyone to take orders from.

As I approach my 23rd birthday, I can't help by challenge myself in thinking about the things which I am truly passionate about as well as those for which I am not. Where is time well-spent? How much do I owe to myself in these different capacities; how much do I owe to any particular cause? It seems as though the answers to these questions always hover around 110%, and if there is something that causes me to question the level of true guts that I can spill, I had better pull out of it and reassure myself that I am dumping my energies into the causes, people, adversity, and celebrations which inevitably ensue a mission that I can unquestionably wrap myself around.

Willy was a perfect example of someone who grabs life by the cojones, works hard, plays hard, acknowledges those around him, and already has his alarm set for another early wake up. It was pretty sweet to be around a soul like that given my recent college graduation and utter confusion about what the bloody hell I'm going to do with myself, even in the short term.

Just........give it hell, I suppose. From French-pressing to relationships to shoveling more goddamned snow on an Olympic downhill than you knew existed, give it hell.

Easier said than done?