sleepless night

its dumping in the city. flakes the size of quarters are drifting down from the heavens covering the ground with natures best creation...snow! i just know that its puking up in the mountains right now... thousands and thousands of tons of snow are blanketing the cascades as i write this and i can barely contain my excitement for what tomorrow will bring... crystal? baker? both should be unreal. well decide in the morning, but for now, i wait in anticipation of what could be one of the most epic days of skiing in my life. i live for days like tomorrow. when preparation meets its opportunity, i don't think you can really call it luck... i envision the deep snow and the ease at which i pass through it. the feeling of weightlessness and effortless motion that only light powder skiing can invoke. everything covered in a deep layer of snow, muffling sound and softening light... a winter wonderland made for just me to move through and dance across at my whim. i know i will be thinking and anticipating tomorrow all night. i might get a little sleep, but even then, i know ill be dreaming of skiing...

untitled

i saw a ghost the other day
and i wondered what he might say
i just watched as he walked away
i didnt follow, i just stayed...

momentum

some nights, you just dont feel like getting off the couch... esspecially when you've been after it the last 3 nights in a row. but when the call comes and a friend is in need, one simply puts ones foot in front of the other and sees where the evening will take him!

it starts sheepishly. do i really want to go? this sounds like its going to be kind of lame. there's no set plan. no one agrees on where to go or what should be done. finnally, a decision and the wheels are set in motion. nothing left to do but to accept ones fate.

it starts to build. everyone meets up. at least the company is fun people. this might not be so bad. light but spirited converstion puts things a little more at ease. still a little suspiscious that this may suck...but things are looking up.

then the door opens and the music comes stumbling out. its amazing. its like the final mystery ingrediant that make the differance between food and cusine. everthing just starts to fall into place and now the evening is off and running! nothing can stop us! not cold and wind, not tall fences, nor hangmans nooses. not even 2am last calls! we laugh, we dance, we howl at the moon! we almost burn down the house. but that is another story all together....

curve ball

it happened so quickly i dont even recall falling... one moment i was upright, the next wallowing on the ground in pain. some of the most intense and agonizing pain i have ever felt. i knew something was very wrong and the 2 destinct pops i had felt as it happened were not comforting me. my first thoughts were of a ruined ski season. how could i have been so stupid to have let this happen so close to the start of the snow flying? what would i do if i couldnt ski? how could this be happening?





as it turns out, it was a pretty bad spain but i was able to rehab well and was off crutches in a week. i still wear a brace and it's not 100%, but it'll do. i've been riding my bike for the past few weeks and went skiing on November 4th, just over a month after the injury. hell yeah!!!

an experiment!

frequent comment: add more photos to your blog (thanks b!)... lately, life has been moving faster than the speed of light, so the pictures dont turn out so well. in an effort to slow down time itself, i signed up for mobile blogging at go@blogger.com. you can send pics and text directly to your blog - how much easier can that be? we'll see if it helps...

boston in summer

boston in summer… heat and humidity, traffic and congestion… history made alive… early mornings, long days, late nights…. pack up, drive, unload, pack up, drive…. bridges, smiles and unforgettable images… you cant get there from here… the door that wouldn’t stay shut… running along side pressing buttons… more bridges… sharing the joy… an incredible sunset… more driving… finding direction, finding my flow… dreaming of apples… sake! thunder!… wet roads… rain pelting the roof… frogs in a pond… a last minute dinner… the round-a-bout from hell… lobster bibs… messy ribs… limitless potential… 16 hours to get home… sleep, deep sleep… dreaming of apples…

who is she?

who is she? what is she like…my partner, my collaborator, my other half? does she feel like either of us won’t be whole until we find each other? will she know it when she meets me, they way i’ll know when i meet her... does she picture in her head our place in the world and dream of the day we will make it real together? does she think of me before she falls asleep knowing that i’m thinking of her… does she long for me and ache to hold me they way i ache for her? have i already met her, or is she still just ahead of me? does she even exist or is she just in my imagination? who ever she is, I’ve already given my heart up to her… all that’s left is for her to claim it…

thinks from the drunk tank

it was one of those days..... it needed to end at the bottom of a glass or three.... 8 hours for work, 4 hours for drink, 2 hours for think, 4 more before i start over again.... but who am i to judge, let alone be on the jury. let he who is inocent cast the first stone, but i prefer it on the rocks... sidetracked, one could say... regardless, more times then not i find that one begets another, and that begets more.... prone to excess. that about sums it up, but is there more to it? do i prefer that life not take itslf so seriously that it can't go out and get shity everyone once in awhile? maybe its me that life doesnt take so seriously... either way, i tend to go where choas and comfort meet - thats called flow for all you chart graphing types. often, flow is lubed with fluid, and i've been known to have my fair share of that... bottoms up!

too long...

Its often too long between visits….family friends, and even with yourself. and for me, this has been the case as evidenced by my lack of attention to this blog. To catch up since my last post, in no particular order, I have gotten in 2 days of skiing, completed my big summer mountain bike race, fallen in and out of love at least twice, helped raise a roof, taken tennis lessons, shot and produced a short video, and traveled to distant locals to further my career. Details of all these accounts will be coming shortly…I promise, but first, a thought

I am about the luckiest person I know. And I use the word luck quite intentionally. It seems, that despite myself, I have managed to live the life I had dreamed for myself as a child. We’ve all had them. Childhood daydreams about what kind of life you are going to have or who you will be when you grow up. Will I be rich and drive a cool car? Will I be successful and have a great job? Will I ever kiss a girl, let alone marry one? I was never too concerned with conventional definition of success: college, career, wife, house, kids… it’s not that I didn’t think about that or didn’t want it. I just assumed that stuff would all take care of itself along the way. What I really dreamed about was adventure and experiences. Of knowledge and discovery. I dreamt of climbing distant mountains and hunting for hidden treasure. I dreamt of sailing the seas and living abroad. I had circled the globe twice in my mind before leaving the third grade. Above all I dreamt of freedom. Freedom to do amazing things and see what there is to see. The freedom to have the time and the ability to do all these things and still have the career, the wife, the house, the car… and/both…that’s why they call it dreaming!

I have many friends who knew their dreams and went off to make them come true. They went to college to become their dream. The got married and had kids to become their dream. They set out with the intention and a plan to will their dreams into reality. Not me. Maybe my dreams were too big and there was no way I could make them come true. Maybe my dreams were too big for me and I was too scared to find out. Maybe I was having too much fun and was too content where I was to go out and live my dreams. So I just kept on living and kept on dreaming….keep on keeping on!

But somehow it happened. I wasn’t as much of a conscious effort but more of an underlying theme in my life. I never set out to accomplish any grand goal or planned my future to perfection. Instead, I set about the task of living and enjoying where I’m at. The decisions I’ve made and the roads I’ve chosen have lead me to where I am. Without even trying, I have managed to follow those dreams that I had for myself growing up. Now my life isn’t an exact match – in my dreams I was much better with the ladies and had a job as a rock star astronaut ninja for hire. Even if those parts didn’t work out for me, the important thing is that I have been able to have the freedom I have always dreamed of. I have done some of the incredible things I had only dreamed that I would do. I have seen and experienced some amazing things that were beyond my dreams. I have the freedom and the ability to do the things that I love to do. And along the way, i've made some great friends to see and do all these great things with. I am truly lucky...

learning to fly

Learning to fly:

i knew it was coming. i had the entire ride up here to think about it. it wont be so bad. i’ll just charge it. “grip it and rip it,” i had said with such bravado. easy to say from the comfort of the car. now that i’m standing on top if it, it’s another story all together.

baby steps. walk before running. one step at a time, bla bla bla… useless mantras that might make sense somewhere, but not right now. i want to be somewhere else. all i can see are the 98 different ways this can go wrong. not enough speed, crash. too much speed, crash. too far forward, crash. too far back, crash. you get the picture. it looks impossibly far. it looks impossibly tall. did i mention i want to be somewhere else.

yes i am scared. yes i am nervous. it’s a completely irrational thing to do. it is the opposite of safe and sane. but a part of me wants to go. go over. i could walk away, but that’s not why i came. i came here to learn. learn to fly…

a challenge

I know he’s out there. Before I even push the bike out the front door, I can just tell I’ll run into him. I promised myself I would take it easy today. I’ve earned a nice easy ride in for once, I try justify. The first few pedals feel good, as I shake the lethargy out off my weary legs. The cool morning air bites at my face and dusts the sleep from my eyes. It is the perfect morning to for a nice mellow pedal into work. But it is not to be…as I round the corner, I catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye.

Him. That guy. The one on the beat up old mountain bike that squeaks like an old hamster wheel. The one decked out in workout clothes that would make any 80’s gym teacher proud. That middle aged looking guy with the grey beard and a helmet older than his college graduate son. Him.

I suppose that I could just let him ride by, but I can’t. I suppose I should just ignore my urge to pass him, but I won’t. I suppose I could just ride to work at my own pace, but I don’t.

Most days, he passes just ahead of me as I reach the first intersection, and I spend the rest of my ride pedaling my heart out to try and pass him. And I never do… Much to my chagrin, he is fast. He is fast despite his ancient clunker bike that looks like it might explode any second under the unrelenting pressure of his tennis shoed feet. He is fast despite looking like an extra from a Richard Simmons workout. He is very fast and I think he is unaware of just how fast he is.

I have caught him before. When he’s ahead of me, I take every risk, cut every corner, and use every bit of bike handling skill I can muster. I can catch him most days, sometimes with the help of a well timed light, but I can catch him. I just cannot pass him. There have been days when I have hovered feet off his rear wheel, summoning every ounce of effort I have to stay with him, and then he begins to pull away. As agrivating as this is to me, I don’t think he is aware of what he is putting me through. I’m not even sure if he knows I’m there. Some mornings we will sit at a light together, bikes only a few feet apart, me just behind him, yet we do not speak. I can swear he’s not even breathing hard. He doesn’t acknowledge me as we wait for the light to turn and resume our quiet little war. Well, it is war for me…

But today is different. I see him out of the corner of my eye and he’s down the street a ways. I sprint, clearing the intersection and for once, I’m ahead of him! I don’t wait for anyone to cheer. I put my head down and put the screws to the machine and I am flying. I steal a quick glance behind. He’s not gone, but he’s not getting any closer. Maybe this was all in my head. Maybe he’s not that fast after all. Maybe I will get my nice easy ride today.

Just as I start to congratulate myself, I sense something behind me. I cant see him there, but I can feel him. The squeak, squeak of his rusty chain just barely audible. Inches off my back wheel, I can sense his effort, feel his breath beating down my neck. I know it’s hurting him to stay with me but I wont let up. I push myself harder knowing that this could be the day…
And it is. As I make my turn to where we would normally part ways, I am ahead of him, but only just. I am spent. It took everything I had to fend him off, but I did it! Before the realty of what I have accomplished has set in, I notice that he has turned as well and has just coasted by. As he does, he waves and nonchelantly says, “nice morning for a ride.” Watching him ride away from me, I’m struck by one thought only. He wasn’t even breathing hard….

inspriations

In time, the rigors and trials of city life lead oneself to search deeper to find meaning. Often this search leads us to nature, in who's environs one can both renew a connection with the natural rhythms of the world as well tests ones own medal. It was on one of these such forays that I found my self engaged in this past weekend with friends both old and new.

Our destination was the wilds of the Southern Cascades to climb the slopes of a mysterious volcano, named for John Q Adams (also know as Paddo or Klickitat by the natives). With little other information to go on about the mountain and a bleak weather forecast, our party set off into the unknown to confirm and test our own personal limits.

The journey from Seattle was long, but made pleasant by the company of such fine people. We passed the time with stories of our deeds and singing the songs of our youth. As darkness fell, we knew we would not be able to reach our intended destination, and were forced to bivouac near a small town in a very bucolic setting. After an excellent meal at an indigenous eatery, I was ready for bed. The five star amenities of nearby Paradise Plunge State Park offered an excellent nights sleep deep in pristine wilderness and greeted us in the morning with the calls of exotic and unknown fauna...

After a spartan breakfast and an arduous approach, we arrive at the trailhead ready to tackle our objective, despite a light pattering of hail on our hoods. As we headed off into the woods, the anticipation of the adventure that awaited made us giddy. The mountain was kind enough to grace our hike to base camp with the splendid and hospitable weather that the Northwest is famous for. Upon reaching our spacious bivouac for the 1st night, we set up camp and set right to work in preparing for the next days adventures, making sure to eat nutritiously as well as hydrating. After several hours of laboring, we turned in for the night, dreams of high summits and perfect weather filled our heads.

After a fitful nights sleep, we awoke to to what every climber dreams of - an amazing purple and red sunrise with perfectly clear sky and air so still, you could feel the flutter of passing butterflies. We quickly departed camp and made our way through the snow and rock of the lower mountain to arrive at the crux of the climb, a steep headwall of snow and ice. Our party began to make slow but steady progress up the intimidating slope in delightful conditions. After a pleasant, yet strenuous exertion, we reached our first objective of the climb, a false summit that obscured the actual top of the mountain. Our hopes of a successful climb were dashed as we crested the ridge to find the true summit obscured in a bank of clouds. Prudence being the better part of valor, we opted to cut our climb short and head for the safety of lower ground.

Our return trip down the headwall was made quickly as we mastered the art of glissading, where one either slides down the slope on ones backside, or balances precariuosly on the heals of ones feet and glides down upright like a skier. This somewhat undignified form of descending proved to both very effective and and invigorating endeavor indeed! Our descent back to our camp was made more difficult by light cloud cover, but we confidently navigated to our destination. After quickly packing up, we made the return trip back to the car with little incident on an exceptionally marked trail.

As I reflect back on the weekends adventures, i am once again filled with a sense of wonder and awe in nature and the power it can have. I am also reminded of my own limits and shortcomings as well as made more confident in my own strengths and abilities. i am thankful for sharing that adventure with such great people who have such similar yet diverging views of life and from who i have and will continue to learn much from and be inspired by.

an ode to ice tea

i pray to the saint of refreshment and drink his sacrament of choice

and in the chiming of the cubes, i swear i can hear his voice

my nectar it floweth freely, it's made from leaves all knowing

to drink one, one craves another, so keep the refills flowing

now comes the art of ice tea, separate from the science

to refill a glass without a second glance is truly an act of defiance

first and foremost - add more ice. this is the golden rule

for ice tea to be ice tea it needs ice to keep it cool

the second half of the equation - a lemon, like a kiss from the sun

sliced in a wedge and set on the edge, now your work is done

when it comes time to enjoy this blessing, please take a moment or two

listen to its secrets, to hear is call, and let it flow right through you...

breakfast all day

i wish that breakfast would last all day... it's not just my favorite meal, its so much more... a feeling, a memory, a moment caught in time. it's both practical and whimsical, pragmatic, yet lavish. where else can syrup and whipped cream be considered condiments? when else does the dessert come before the meal, or is the meal? breakfast fuels you for the day ahead and provides a time to plan and prepare. it's also a calm moment to reflect that can bring you to another place entirely... who can forget that lazy sunday morning of breakfast served on a tray in bed... when time seams to cost less, so you spend it freely. Breakfast nourishes the body, but it can also enrich the soul... it's time spent with yourself or in the company of friends (it's the only meal you eat with those who truly matter!) it's time spent that is selfish and decedent, yet responsible and needed. its a concurring contradiction that we see for what it is and want nothing more or less from it. if we could only live the rest of our lives like those moments....if only breakfast would last all day.