Introduction
"Life is a journey,
and when you think it is close to ending,
it is just beginning."
—Barbara Kucera, Metamorphosis
Life is a journey, not a destination. It is a process, not an endpoint. Life is a mystery to be explored, not a problem to be solved.
As a veteran strategic planner, I had lived an “examined” life, as extolled by the Greek philosopher Socrates; but it took a “near death” experience for me to have the opportunity and the commitment to take greater charge of my life and, in the process, travel even deeper into my Self. If you are adventurous and courageous, you too can take that deeper Journey into the Self.
My life had followed an orderly and efficient series of phases. I graduated from college with degrees in Chemistry and Bible, earned an M.D., completed internship and residency, spent two years as an Epidemic Intelligence Service Officer with the CDC, and was named Chief of Pathology at a New England medical center, all by the age of thirty-three. For the next twenty-five years, I enjoyed a successful group practice in medicine and created a number of ventures in and outside the practice of Medicine. Surrounding myself with talented people and giving them an opportunity to soar was the key to my success.
During that time I married, divorced, remarried, and helped raise four fine children. In 1995 I took early retirement from medical practice to enjoy the worlds of consulting, writing, speaking, and traveling, with a focus on mountaineering. I was also entering the world of the ageing Taoist who was given the freedom to roam and to study his life’s work now that his children were grown and independent. It was the world of self-actualization, at the top of the Hierarchy of Needs as described by psychologist Abraham Maslow.
The phases of one’s life may be divided into specific episodes, usually of shorter duration and often of greater intensity. An episode may include a tour of military duty, an internship in a law office or hospital, childbirth, an adventure in Mexico or Europe, or a short and intense, but ill-fated, romance.
For me, one of these episodes occurred October 23, 1999 on Mt. Washington in New Hampshire, days before my sixty-first birthday. Although for years my life had focused largely on my busy medical practice, I had found the time to respond to the lure of the mountains. Mountaineering, that death-defying dance with gravity, offers freedom, challenge, risk, and (hopefully) success in summiting. Over several decades I had hiked on five continents and climbed on some of the highest and most dramatic mountains in the world—from Mt. Elbrus in Russia to Kilimanjaro in Africa to Aconcagua in Argentina—each the highest mountains in their respective continents.
I was never a pretender to stand atop Mt. Everest.
On those spectacular mountains I was a member of organized teams with highly-qualified guides. I always returned without a serious incident. In mountaineering, Goal #2 is to summit. Goal #1 is to return safely and intact.
The Mt. Washington episode was different. That which had started as a simple hike turned into a disastrous misadventure.
There is a popular concept that everyone should enjoy fifteen minutes of fame. I, however, have experienced a much longer period of infamy—of negative coverage on countless media outlets nationwide. There are three controversies surrounding my misadventure that merit consideration:
My use of a cellular telephone to call for rescue;
The fact that I was hiking solo;
My decision to press on, instead of turning back, when the weather changed from rain to snow.