Walked the Continental Divide this morning, wrapped in the cold flowing clouds that blew in from the eastern side. Damp, white, and swirling, they obscured the peak we were aspiring to climb, so we rambled up and down the trail at 11,500 feet instead, crossing rocky meadows and playing in the snow. Small flowers like forget-me-nots, Indian paintbrush, and miniature daisies are sprinkled among the scruffy pines. We had our Labrador retriever with us for companionship, and breathed the thin air with delight at being alive.
These days I'm hearing the laughter of children - specifically the sounds of Tan, the son of my friend Peggy, and Kai, Peggy's nephew. Full of robust, knockabout energy, they tumble through life bouncing off things and living large, laughing and crying easily. It's nice to be around them, thinking about where they are and where they're headed. What can we do to make the world a better place for them when they are our age? How can we take care of ourselves and our world so that it is a cleaner, safer, more accessible, more reliable, and more sound place than it is now? How can we take more positive action in our lives and rely less on our own rationalizations for why we do the things we do now?
Right now I'm enjoying the clean air and sunshine, honest work and honest play. Looking forward to more living and learning with friends as my journey continues eastward. Thinking about how to settle down, how to be more patient with myself, what to focus on, what to let go of... Looking forward to seeing you soon.
"I won't be asked to do my share when I'm gone, so I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here..." Ani DiFranco
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