From this high place of gratitude I look below to what my life has been, feeling happy for the rewarding paths I've walked. Feeling loved. It all leads me to think about convergence: the coming together of two or more things.

Eight years ago (wow, already?) my little immigrant self converged with a new world, a new reality with new structures and new ways of being. Other migrants might know, when you move from a not so ideal place like I did, your mind goes into this weird survivalist mode where only the basic needs matter. It's not a surprise, since the main reasons to migrate are search for work, protection, or reuniting with family members.

Dragged by the current of this convergence of rivers, you do a wonderful thing. You turn into a liquid yourself. You take the shape of any vessel you're poured into. You assimilate. Diving head first into the treacherous melting pot, we desperately try to accomodate for everything.

Our past self withers whilst the new one grows on the strange trellis it's been given.

My old and new identities kept clashing within me, hot and cold air generating thunderstorms. Then I discovered climbing. We converged. There was a powerful contrast between my needs and what this sport had to offer, which at first made me so cynical about this activity, and the people within it.

Think about the reasons why most of us climb: self improvement, sense of achievement, an exercise in resilience, or just a fun adventure. Sounds great, and also very frivolous. Now look at the other side of the road and think of my reality when I first visited an indoor wall. I was craving affection and security, stability. Support.

I looked into the lukewarm melting pot of the climbing community and, just for once, decided not to jump in.

Looking back at this hinge moment, I think it was there and then where the seed for Colour Up was planted. The reasons that pushed me and my friends to build it was to give ourselves and others the support that climbing wasn't selling. ​​​​​We didn't assimilate, we made a new space instead.

But there are also selfish reasons to build a community.

In this ongoing dilemma of who I am and where my true self lives, I was prompted by my therapist to think of the values that make me, especially the ones I keep from my so-called previous life in Venezuela.

I was to look for an overlap in values between old and new me, a Venn diagram if you like. A treasure map to the truest self. This self, I believe, lies in my community. It's the Carlos that my pals see when we climb and hang out as Colour Up. To give you examples, it's here where my generosity (official trademark of my mum) coexists with selfish climbing pursuits. My learned desire to work hard leaves ample room to play, to just be, with those I love.

Our sense of self is ever evolving, flows like a river, and naturally converges. We reach junctions that put to test what we claim to be: are we also kind in the face of hostility? Does our sense of justice ever turn a blind eye? When I think about convergence I think about these forks on the road. On them, we learn who we truly are.

For us climbers, walkers, mountain people, these moments can put us in direct opposition to our sport or activity. We know the issues of our society ripple through our spaces of play, but we must not forget our role: it's our individual actions, piled one on top of the other, that build the communities we want and deserve.

When the inevitable clash happens and we converge with injustice, discrimination, or plain unkindness, will we assimilate or let our most real self flow through?