”Takva” is asceticism. It’s an arabic word which means ‘a man’s fear of something/ someone bigger than himself’. We have been discussing ‘fear’, ‘hope’ and ‘mountains’ in recent weeks. Last night we even saw a movie by Özer Kiziltan with the same title as todays blog, namely “A man’s fear of God”. It’s a movie about fear, and it’s about Muharrem who is a self- disciplined man who lives a solitary life of an ascetin within a modern society. His life is only about devotion to God, but it is going to change when Sheik offers him a job as a rent collector for dervishes’ properties. Nice photography, otherwise really predictive plot. After the movie, we talked about fear and hope and risk, and how those are the fundamental rhythm of mountaineering. G. has been reading ‘Mountains of mind’ for some days now, and he could tell me that Robert MacFarlane, the writer of this book, is getting old (in my opinion), ’cause Robert MacFarlane believes in security rather than risk. Read the excerpts below, and tell me that I exaggerated.

quote of the day (from ‘Mountains of mind’):

 

It’s easy to sentimentalize or glorify the climbing dead. But what should be remembered – what’s often forgotten- are the people left behind. All those parents, children, husbands, wives and partners who have lost their loved ones to the mountains. All those ruined lives which have to be completed. People who regularly take big risks in the mountains must be considered either profoundly selfish or incapable of sympathy for those who love them.

(page 98)

 

I now almost fully acknowledge that there is nothing inherently noble about dying in the mountains: indeed that there is something atrociously wasteful about it. I have largely stopped takings risks. I rarely undertake climbs which require the security of ropes. I have discovered that it is eminently possible to spend time in the mountains and to be at far less risk than one would be, say, crossing city streets. I’m scared more easily, too: my fear threshold has been sharply lowered. That fizzing, nauseous, faintly erotic feeling of real terror grips me more quickly these days. Edges that five years ago I would happily have walked along, I know keep my distance from. For me now, as for the vast majority of mountain – goers, the attraction of mountains is far more about beauty than about risk, far more about joy than fear, far more about wonder than pain, and far more about life than death.

(page 99).