The Great Pyramid Conqueror
This is a story about the time I climbed to the top of a pyramid.
Maybe when you think of a pyramid you think about the great Egyptian pyramids, or something similar; ancient and grand.
This was not that.
This was a pyramid of rough stone that stood about 14 ft. tall that sat on a hill in Joaquin Miller Park in Oakland, CA. It seemed even less grand when a little boy about 10 years old shimmied effortlessly to the top, where he stood up tall to pose for a picture.
I was there with my best friend, her girlfriend and my boyfriend… some of my favorite people in the world. We had decided to come to this park to walk to a point where we could watch the sunset, and had settled on a picnic table right near the pyramid.
As I watched the boy climb I held my breath thinking he was nuts, but none of my companions shared my concern for his life.
I lived in Los Angeles at this time but I was in Oakland because summer was almost over. I was a nanny so my schedule was a little more lenient during the summer, and I wanted to take advantage. It was nearing the end of a long, 10-day vacation and I was feeling efficiently burned out, not wanting to get back to real life, but running too low on energy to keep up vacation mentality.
Needless to say, I was filled with some complex emotions. Partially, I was filled with joy, getting to spend the final hours of this lovely day with the people that I love so much.
But I was also tired, and even in my groggy state, I knew there was a lot going on in my life that I had to figure out. I waited for the little boy and his family to scamper off and I wandered over to the pyramid and sat at the base to contemplate things.
I had turned 30-years-old earlier that summer and I knew that I had to get serious about my life. I had always wanted to be an actor. In high school I screwed around, skipped classes, and almost dropped out until the family therapist and my parents and I agreed that I would AT LEAST pass to graduate, even if it was with D’s and C’s. So I knew then that I was never going to get into an ACTUAL college. I auditioned for performing arts schools instead and was accepted.
One of the first things they tell you in these schools is that an over-night success actually takes 10 years.
“10 years?” I thought. Sure, I can do that. I’ll keep my goals minimal, but in 10 years I should be at least be well on my way to making a living at this acting thing.
Well, 30 approached and I hit my 10-year mark. So where was I, at 30? Well, I’ll tell you where I was NOT at 30… I was not well on my way to making a living at this acting thing. In fact, I was starting to hate everything about this acting thing.
So, at the bottom of this pyramid I sat and questioned what felt like my entire identity, and speaking of new identities, I felt like I had a whole new body. Yup. You know. At 30, your body decides to punish you for not being in your 20’s anymore. I’ve already always struggled to accept my body, especially living in LA and I am on social media so literally everywhere I look are girls who are ALL skinnier and prettier and seemingly just better than I am. And I just saw my older sister who has two kids and still has to alter size 0’s smaller to make them fit her. I’ve always been sure that if I looked more like her, then maybe I would in fact be well on my way to making a living at this acting thing.
While I’m on the spiral, I start thinking about the fact I’m not working out, I’m not eating healthy, I am drinking way too much and getting way too high. None of this helps my self-esteem, of course.
The one thing, though, the one thing that I had been proud of going into my 30th year of life, was my new meditation practice. Yes, I know. Very LA. I had spent the entire year working on building it into my regular routine and I had recently had a profound experience with it, and I wanted to learn more. I was desperate to learn more! I knew that it was time to lay down the groundwork for undergoing real change, and I knew it needed to come from within. Finally, with meditation, it felt like there was hope… like I was truly reconnecting with my inner truth… with my soul, if you want to call it that. I mean, I had always been a sort of pessimistic atheist, but with meditation I felt like I could believe in MORE without having to believe in something I felt was entirely made up. This was science, but still mysterious, like using physics as a jumping off point for spirituality.
So I had sought out guidance for this journey, and for the not-so-low price of $300 (which was only that price because they took pity on me and gave me a student discount) I enrolled in a “meditation program” that this woman guaranteed I would love, that would help me establish a deeper meditation that I could do on my own, without apps or YouTube guidance, which is what I had been doing.
So I went through the program and essentially they taught me a breathing technique. It was three-day program, but could have possibly been done in a couple of hours, but then they wouldn’t have been able to charge you all that money for it.
Anyway, you’re supposed to implement this breathing practice into your routine for 40 days in a row. And I had started doing it. After all, I was determined, because they were using words like “rediscover the joy in day to day life,” and “live stress free,” and all the other amazing benefits I heard meditation could give you. But the problem was, this wasn’t really a meditation to me. It was a difficult breathing pattern. And it was strenuous, and you had to focus, and count, and it was really the opposite of what I thought of meditation, and when I did it my head hurt. I was actually having phantom yawning streaks, which became quite painful and annoying, and for that $300 I emailed to ask my two teachers for advice and guidance and got zero response. But they guaranteed me that this was a game-changer so for 20 days, I FORCED myself to sit down with it, over 30 minutes every day, and never before have I had to FORCE myself to meditate like this, but I would force myself to do this thing, determined, knowing well that I desperately needed to change from within, and that was what they advertised.
So I got half way through, made it to day 20 and on day 21- just a couple days before the pyramid- I had this ridiculous day. Woke up, barely have 5 minutes to get to the airport, just made my flight, got in to Oakland, rushed to meet my boyfriend, had less than 10 minutes to get ready for this wedding, went to wedding and got trashed, bla bla bla. I had NO time to myself to do the breathing, because unlike meditation, it’s not really something you can just do anywhere. Your hands seize up, there are vocals involved, the whole nine yards.
So here I was, day 23. I was 20 days with the breathing technique, then three days without it, sitting at the bottom of this pyramid, my friends and boyfriend are at the picnic table a few yards away and I’m thinking to myself that I am fucked. That I am just stuck, and what if change really isn’t possible for me? What if my “thing” is just that I’m not talented enough, not hard working enough, not quite pretty or skinny enough? I’m just a boring, lost, loser and what’s the point of even living because, apparently, I can’t do anything to change these facts. I mean the one thing that gave me optimism and hope that I actually could change my life was meditation, and I even somehow failed at that.
So my boyfriend and friends come over and I get up and I’m trying to interact and be normal, when, for some reason, I look at this pyramid and I hear myself saying out loud, “I’m gonna climb it.”
Now, contrary to me, my boyfriend LOVES rock climbing, mountain climbing and all that high risk, high reward stuff and while I encourage him, and even sort of think “one day,” deep down I know that it’s not really at the top of my to-do list because I don’t like the possibility of getting hurt, and will avoid it at all costs (which probably contributed to my less-than-ideal life circumstances in the first place.)
Of course my boyfriend is supportive and he says, “Yeah, do it,” because to him, he’d fly up it in three seconds flat. So I begin, and at about the first foot up, I’m okay, but immediately I can tell that this is going to be harder than I thought to find footing, so I’m like “ehhhhhhhhh….. maybe not.” But then he says, “okay, now put this foot here and now throw that hand there,” and before I know it, I’m begrudgingly about 4 feet up, and suddenly it’s a little scarier to fall. At 5 feet up, I suddenly remember all of those voices in my head. How weak I felt. How incapable I was. Including getting to the top of this pyramid.
“Well, I tried.” I said annoyed, giving up on myself, ready to launch backwards into his arms, because I was too afraid to do anything on my own, and I thought, “no way could I even jump off by myself.” I felt like a child.
“No, you’re getting to the top.” My boyfriend said.
“But I hate this!” I shouted back at him.
I made a noise like “UGHHHH” when I realized he wasn’t going to help me down, I looked for the next place get a grip on, and find my footing, my head buzzing with anger and adrenaline. At about 8 feet, I’m getting higher and higher and the stakes are too. I mean, I’m looking down at the pyramid shape knowing that I can’t just jump off because I didn’t have the kind of leverage to clear the base, so I’d literally just slide lower down on the pyramid and tumble.
“You’re almost there,” he said.
Angrily trying to prove that continuing was a bad idea, I brought up how difficult it was going to be to get down.
“You’ll be fine.”
I was searching for excuses to give up and I told him I wasn’t having fun anymore.
At 9, 10, 11 feet, I hated my boyfriend. I had rageful thoughts in my head. How could he make me do this? Why was he putting me in danger? Why didn’t he understand that I wanted to come down?! That I couldn’t go on?!?!?!?!
I’m finally within arms reach of the “nice little seat” that he promised me was on top, but it was kind of a rounded brick, which I wrapped my arms around and clung on to.
“Great!” I said, “Now that I’m here I’m totally stuck, and since I’m stuck my body is becoming more and more exhausted and I can’t move! AND, by the way, THIS ISN’T A SEAT!”
My boyfriend, now behind me hanging on with one hand and one foot like a goddamn monkey gives me a minor sense of security and encourages me. “You can do it. You’re there.”
And as I’m there, filled with shear panic of getting hurt, totally humiliated about my lack of abilities, and rage towards my pushy boyfriend, I look over and my friends, BEST friends, are down below, hysterically cracking up, FILMING me with their IPhones. Those little shits.
And suddenly, I see how ridiculous this must look… how ridiculous it actually IS… and it’s just introducing this entirely new perspective, and as I started to realize this new perspective tears start bursting from my eyes and I dissolve into a sort of sobbing laughter as I cling to the rounded seat.
The laughter and this new perspective gives me the last bit of energy I need and I manage to shimmy myself up the rest of the way so that I can sit on the “seat,” at the top of the pyramid, and I feel exhausted and manic. Tears are just streaming down my face as I switch from laughter, to sobs of relief, to embarrassment for how hard this seemingly simple obstacle was for me in that moment, then back to laughter.
My boyfriend, kind of annoyingly, shares the small seat at the top with me, and I let him because I can see he’s shaking too from having had to hold himself up while I struggled, in order to keep me feeling safe and supported. Maybe it really wasn’t as easy as that 10-year-old boy made it seem.
After a few long minutes of watching the sun begin to set, I was more than ready for my descent. It was much easier than I imagined. Especially because in that moment, I truly felt like no matter what challenges I would have to face in the future, somehow I would muster the strength to conquer them.
