I run my mouth. It’s nothing new. Twenty years ago I used an advertising campaign to broadcast my message. The ads were meant to sell climbing equipment but my motive was more subversive. I used the platform to both admonish and inspire. I suppose that hasn’t changed.

The premise of that campaign was that Style Matters. How you do a thing is as important—if not more so—than the task itself or its accomplishment. This philosophy informed the way I climbed mountains and derived from a phrase written by Trevanian in his magnificent book titled, “Shibumi”. Therein he wrote that, “… style and form are everything, and substance a passing myth.” Of course you must DO something but it ain’t simply the doing — it’s how you do it.

We interpreted this in the mountains by paring technology to an absolute minimum. Doing so placed greater responsibility for the outcome on ourselves and our own capacities. Where others went heavy and slow, placing safety ahead of accomplishment, our style was to cover the same terrain in a blaze of light, accepting the ultimate risk in order to have the ultimate, transformative experience. Sometimes our physical ability and mental resilience were equal to the task. Sometimes not. Fortunately, most of my closest friends and partners survived. Of course, it was a close thing and some guys didn’t make it but that kept us attentive — and honest.

This philosophy still pervades. The gym project I founded (Gym Jones) was built on it. The publishing project I co-founded (NonProphet) was a refinement of the ideal and lasted as long as its Style mattered to me. Now, again, I have pared down my intent and relationships to make something that aligns with my current ideals. And style still matters.

At various points along my trajectory I wrote about form and proper execution of movements done in the artificial environment of the gym but I don't find this useful now. Perhaps too many deaf ears jaded me, or too much self-congratulation broadcast by those who did hear or read it. The fundamentals matter, of course, and graceful execution should be a given because efficiency always expresses as grace and economy of both motion and resource expenditure has always been the point. Style applies to everything. The aesthetic of my original gym project was driven by style, which I meant as lifestyle—lived style—not fabrication.

Once upon a time, when few others were thinking philosophically about artificial training, I believed that the most important point of my training philosophy was, “The Mind Is Primary”, a concept I encountered in “The Tao of Jeet Kune Do”, written by Bruce Lee. All physical performance, all behavior and eventual restructuring of it originates in the mind. All limitations dwell there too. It’s a clever slogan. It’s easy to say. It’s easy to pay lip service and fun to wear on a t-shirt but difficult to understand. It is also wrong. Heart drives, while the Mind merely interprets. Heart imagines, the Mind executes. I wrote a modern essay about this in POISON.

Physical performance is important to me only to the extent that physical experience affects emotion and can cause psychological change. My body is a vessel. My heart and mind ride along with it. To be sure, the more physically capable I am the further I can go. Higher. Sometimes deeper. Toward greater understanding. But this is my bias because I am physical. I could not attain the same awareness without participation of my body. However, many do. I admire their ability to journey separate from the vessel.

On the other hand I do not admire those for whom the vessel is the point. They reject the mind as anything more than a means to attain complete concentration on the immediate task (and rarely notice heart at all except to count its beats-per-minute). For them, muscles, leverage and technique cause outcome and trump other influence. Any underlying emotion or psychological force that might precede or allow performance is considered less important than the power and force expressed by the muscles. I’ve never learned anything of value from these people.

On its own, modern, artificial interpretation of the physical—prevalent in every major men's magazine—is too easy to cause meaningful internal change.

In fact, practitioners of the more internally guided martial arts feel that emphasis on the external (physical) impedes growth and development of the internal. I saw this manifested in climbing over and over: the physically gifted beginner could progress rapidly through the grades but eventually stalled out because emphasis on the physical is limited. On the other hand, a climber with few physical talents but a strong and flexible mind and deeply-seated emotional drive may progress as far or further by focusing mental and spiritual power, and expressing his or her limited physical abilities efficiently.

The strong individual solves problems with strength. The weak individual solves problems with economy, flexibility and understanding. Of course, the individual who is both physically strong, mentally resilient and spiritually driven is always more capable — and that’s the point: do not neglect one aspect in favor of the other. Do not fall in love with one aspect while ignoring the other.

This has more to do with style than is obvious. We all know Mongo, the big, strong and clumsy trainee whose philosophy in the gym and in life is to go harder, or perhaps to wake up earlier. And we all know his opposite, whose philosophy is flexibility and suppleness both in the studio and in life. We identify with who we perceive to be like us or who we would like to become. We adopt the style and composure of who we role model, who we want to be. We try to do the things they do and if or when we fall short we settle for mimicking their behavior, and their style. Sometimes we would do well to inspect our motivations as much as we examine the subjects of our adoration.

Style matters. Actions matter. If I am a so-called leader and I confront hardship gracefully I make doing so more accessible to those who might otherwise retreat. If I suffer well, and take difficulty seriously without blowing it out of proportion I reduce the gap between the couch and the goalposts for anyone who happens to be watching. When I breathe easily and in control during the hardest efforts I tell my own mind that it is OK to go this hard, and to feel like this. When I accept a difficult challenge with words like, “Let’s try it” instead of phrases like, “This will be ugly”, I chop hardship down to a manageable level and can handle it one step or one bite at a time.

One's style in the face of adversity determines the degree of difficulty that comes with it. A smile and laugh are just as fake as the loud words spoken through gritted teeth. Instead of posturing, flow with it. Bend. Accept. Then push as hard as is necessary but no harder. At the end of the day put false humility and ego aside. Just be cool. Because cool is good style.

And it goes a lot further than tough ever will.

Style Matters

We The People

Weakness