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Inspiring Short: On Failing and Finishing | Cassy Budd

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Cassy Budd explains why we don't need to be paralyzed by our mistakes. Failure helps us to learn and pushes us to rely on the help of the Savior.
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"The return trip was harder than the descent, largely due to the lack of light. I look back at the photos we took and wonder why I was trying to scramble over rocks when there seemed to be a clear path just a few feet to the side. I can see those pathways now with the benefit of flash photography, but at the time I was not able to see the route with any clarity.
We clambered back up to the domed room, but the real challenge remained: we still had to negotiate the rope that hung from the ceiling and disappeared into the winding rock exit above. And this time we would be climbing up with the assistance of ascenders instead of dropping effortlessly down.
Mike ascended first and secured himself above with a second rope, ready to assist us. When it was my turn to exit, Taylor stabilized the bottom of the rope and Mike positioned himself in the corkscrew to coach me through the process. I had only learned to use the ascenders that morning, and although it had seemed simple in the climbing gym, I struggled to get my arms and legs to work together now.
I managed to inch about halfway up the rope before I had to stop, slumping down in the climbing harness to rest my legs. But fear would not let me rest my arms. I clung tightly to the ascenders, refusing to let go and unable to relax. I spent several minutes dangling twenty-five feet above the ground, mustering the necessary strength to keep climbing.
I gathered myself and continued up the remaining visible length of rope until the top ascender would move no further. I had reached the rock above and needed to let go of the ascenders. This was the only way I could find handholds and continue climbing.
Again, fear took hold of me, and I had neither the strength nor the fortitude to let go. Every muscle in my body shook, and I began to contemplate what living in a cave might be like. In this panic-stricken state, I heard Mike talking above me. He was telling me to relax and to stay calm, giving me instructions on where to reach.
I pointed my headlamp upward to shed light on my path, but I could not see any suitable holds, so I told Mike, “I cannot do this.”
I looked up again hoping to see him, but because of the curvature of the rock I could only hear his voice. He tried different instructions, but there was no way I was letting go of those ascenders. I didn’t trust the rock, I didn’t trust myself, and I didn’t trust my ability to leave the perceived safety of the gear to which I clung. I remember hearing some movement above me and then nothing. Then Mike told me to take his hand.
This time when I looked up, I could see Mike’s forearm, with his hand open wide. I laughed out loud. “You are just going to pull me up one-handed?” I asked.
“Sure!” he said confidently. We argued the relative merits of this idea for a time, me telling Mike that it was impossible for him to just yank me up there with no leverage while harnessed to a rope and cramped in a crevice and Mike insisting that he could do it. Given that I am telling you this story from the Marriott Center and not from inside Spanish Moss Cave, you can guess who won that argument." - Cassy Budd
Read and listen to more BYU Speeches here:
Follow BYU Speeches:
© Brigham Young University. All rights reserved.
"The return trip was harder than the descent, largely due to the lack of light. I look back at the photos we took and wonder why I was trying to scramble over rocks when there seemed to be a clear path just a few feet to the side. I can see those pathways now with the benefit of flash photography, but at the time I was not able to see the route with any clarity.
We clambered back up to the domed room, but the real challenge remained: we still had to negotiate the rope that hung from the ceiling and disappeared into the winding rock exit above. And this time we would be climbing up with the assistance of ascenders instead of dropping effortlessly down.
Mike ascended first and secured himself above with a second rope, ready to assist us. When it was my turn to exit, Taylor stabilized the bottom of the rope and Mike positioned himself in the corkscrew to coach me through the process. I had only learned to use the ascenders that morning, and although it had seemed simple in the climbing gym, I struggled to get my arms and legs to work together now.
I managed to inch about halfway up the rope before I had to stop, slumping down in the climbing harness to rest my legs. But fear would not let me rest my arms. I clung tightly to the ascenders, refusing to let go and unable to relax. I spent several minutes dangling twenty-five feet above the ground, mustering the necessary strength to keep climbing.
I gathered myself and continued up the remaining visible length of rope until the top ascender would move no further. I had reached the rock above and needed to let go of the ascenders. This was the only way I could find handholds and continue climbing.
Again, fear took hold of me, and I had neither the strength nor the fortitude to let go. Every muscle in my body shook, and I began to contemplate what living in a cave might be like. In this panic-stricken state, I heard Mike talking above me. He was telling me to relax and to stay calm, giving me instructions on where to reach.
I pointed my headlamp upward to shed light on my path, but I could not see any suitable holds, so I told Mike, “I cannot do this.”
I looked up again hoping to see him, but because of the curvature of the rock I could only hear his voice. He tried different instructions, but there was no way I was letting go of those ascenders. I didn’t trust the rock, I didn’t trust myself, and I didn’t trust my ability to leave the perceived safety of the gear to which I clung. I remember hearing some movement above me and then nothing. Then Mike told me to take his hand.
This time when I looked up, I could see Mike’s forearm, with his hand open wide. I laughed out loud. “You are just going to pull me up one-handed?” I asked.
“Sure!” he said confidently. We argued the relative merits of this idea for a time, me telling Mike that it was impossible for him to just yank me up there with no leverage while harnessed to a rope and cramped in a crevice and Mike insisting that he could do it. Given that I am telling you this story from the Marriott Center and not from inside Spanish Moss Cave, you can guess who won that argument." - Cassy Budd
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