Cliffhanging

Life may be not only meaningless but absurd. ~Thomas Nagel

Right after the abseiling slope on our regular hiking path in Penang Hill, is a steep three-storey cliff. This is a deadly cliff which no sane man would even think of climbing up without proper rock-climbing equipments and a life insurance.

To begin with, the loose earth does not offer much space for safe and firm footholds. Besides, backing down is not an option once you've started climbing up the cliff since that'd be more dangerous than going up. But, with nothing on the ground except jagged granites to break your fall (and your cranium), the best thing you can hope for - should you slip - is an instant, painless death instead of ending up breaking the spinal chord and live the rest of your life in the bed as a vegetable.

Today, we flirted with death for the third time, going up this cliff armed with senseless bravado and sheer irrationality. Satistically, we should be dead by now. But miracles do happen - in our case, thrice. Otherwise, I'd be resting in peace or playing my harp in heaven right now instead of blogging.

I had a different feeling each time we made it to the top. On the first time, there was a sense of achievement. As we made one final push and set our feet on the cliff, we shouted like mad men. For the moment, the risk and the unbearable level of adrenaline seemed to be a fair price to pay for the boost in ego.

On the second attempt, there was a sense of invincibility - typical of megalomaniacs. More than once, I slipped. Had my guardian angel being in negligent in those critical moments, I would have ended up with the same fate as an egg being dropped down the cliff. Yet, defying the mathematics of probability, we somehow survived and smirked at death's face.

However, our third accomplishment did not make me feel good at all, even though we managed to make it in a shorter time than before. As a matter of fact, I started questioning myself of the unnecessary risk I've taken. What is it, if not insanity, which is capable of driving a man to risk his life for something not worth dying for? Has he lost hope in life and become suicidal enough to gamble with his life? Or is he just some irrational potato head like Raptor who is only seeking for some form of thrill to spice up his otherwise bland life?

Of course, every time we climbed up, I was fearful of loosing my foothold. Yet, even in those cliffhanging moments, my life did not flash through the mind - the way it ought to happpen to those who are having a brush with death. Is my life not worth valuing - even by myself?

Indeed, I felt lucky to have made it all the way up with some mere scratches in the elbows and the knees. Yet, I stretched my luck and risked a second and god forbid, a third try. Do I not appreciate the fact that I'm still living?

What's wrong with me? What is it in life that I'm not satisfied of?

Suddenly, life seems to have come to a cliffhanging stage. Neither backing down nor hanging midway is an option. I know darn well that the Hobson's choice is to go up. But alas, being able to make it thus far doesn't guarantee that I'll make it to the top...