“Ah, life. You’re here, you’re there, but ... will the real future please stand up? It’s that time of year, when for me the skiing sucks because my trackless wilderness is just that, but deeper. The aqua-teal of my stubby back-country Alpinas can’t save me from the downed tree-traps of the woods, the brutal creme brulee toppings on my unbroken trail, the grueling uphills I take, skinless, if you know what I mean. Generally speaking, I think it’s always a good thing to question the narrative. But I don’t have a death wish. February is serious business. The wind has been sculpting and polishing the woods. It brings out some interesting contradictions, as with a younger generation of adventurers who will risk avalanches but not social proximity. I don’t know if they can disengage from the scrying mirrors of their technology & their fear. Just maybe, fate has dealt them the hardest deck. Yet where love is aching, and aching hard, or aching inconsolably, the decisions come not from any government or authority, but from human understanding. I’ve been held prisoner, be it mentally or emotionally, economically and physically, because my path was to plumb the depths of such things. Just realize if that’s what you’re doing now. We don’t have a lot of time to sort this out. Take note of your oppression, or forever hold your peace. Embrace what others tell you, or decide to accept the internal conflict of free thinking. I know, I know. Pompous ass. Not really. Just missing you. Perplexed by how you rolled over. I haven’t shopped anywhere but the gas station for a year. You won’t put a mask on me. As much as y’all will jump on me, I’ve had other people’s hands covering my mouth to near suffocation, the whole damn time. Emotional trauma cut me off at the vocal cords a long time ago, almost soon as I could sing. Hey, it’s real. You might have a heart problem. I have a “no one hears me” problem. Betrayal by the ones closest to you constitutes a gag. You’ll choke on every word, without meaning to, watching them lie, again and again. If silence is the goal, here we are. They conned you. So I’ve developed a response to it, I guess, as much as anyone can who’s suffered a severely truncated income. There’s so much work to do. So much healing. So much radiant crystalline water, waking to meet with you each day. Tossed up by the shovel you carry as you participate in the sunrise, or sunset, that same shovel you use as a crutch and a sword. The brooms, the axes, the ski poles, the car keys, the other wounded souls. Not far, not any much different than your little self. Anyone who’s lost a whole plan or plans, or been isolated by scam, or by snow.”
