Thoughts Before a Summit Climb


Evolving Out Loud, Travel / Sunday, March 11th, 2018

I’m here in Colorado and the scene is beautiful with snow capped trees and roofs. We are staying in a lodge with a buffalo theme, which I suppose is appropriate because the buffalo like snow. I think. I’m not sure, I think I saw that in a Yellowstone picture once.

We come to these vacations to escape our thoughts but we are just as connected as we were to our old ways of life. I think to truly let go, I have to let go of my need for control of the situation. Accept that I’m stressed out when I’m around family, and I love it. Stop trying to get other people to say “I love it” at the end of a thought; some of them aren’t ready or don’t want to. And while it does cause my ego to die a little inside, I know that it means there is more space for my heart to grow.

I forgot what I was going to write about shortly after my meditation today, but I think it had to do with the concept of sitting. So much of traveling yesterday could have been waiting to be somewhere else; indeed, I had a wave of panic ride over me when I realized that I needed to be in the airport terminal for a few more hours before my ride arrived. But then I realized that I was happy to be where I was; that I could compose poetry even in my head and do other creative things, even though I initially felt stuck.

Late night Denver shift

Mop away the travel dirt

Last flight out tonight

There is a certain sort of peace that I want to tap into constantly when I know that I’m living in the deep down. When I live here, it doesn’t matter what I believe is in turmoil, or where I go, or what I am doing, but there is a sort of deep down that is undisturbed. It’s perhaps in that sense I heard the advice of that retiring law firm partner to be “writing the waves,” because when I’m writing and creating, I feel profoundly at peace. Tapping into the deep down means I don’t care about what happens to me, but I can love what happens to me.

There are so many thoughts I want to say but part of me feels fuzzy inside, like I’m trying to flip between two different channels in my mind. Yet I know that underneath all that, I may be the television itself (it’s a funny trick motivational speakers like to use), and then all of a sudden there is simultaneously both nothing and a lot to do. There’s energy to what I want to accomplish but there’s a force that holds me back. It is that sort of equilibrium and chaos that I find so beautiful.

Elevation change

Feel your heart pound and sing

Summit climb at last

 

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