Saturday night I went with friends to see the Sounds of the Rockies perform at the University of Denver's Newman Center. It was an all men's choir that broke off into several quartet's throughout the evening. It was an amazing evening in a beautiful space, and, for a second, I felt like I was one of Denver's elete.
Tonight I'm volunteering to host for a few homeless families through a Denver program called Inter-faith Hospitality Network. Churches around the metro area take turns housing and feeding families in need, and I feel compelled to do my part here. In a way, I can relate, but in more ways, I can't. I don't need to be living my lifestyle. I don't need to have my struggles. I choose them. They haven't chosen me.
More and more people seem to have been falling into the grip of desparity from the economic fallout, a fallout from the undereducation of those people who took and gave loans... and now the masses are hurting. We are all hurting, but we all have the power to change it. We have voices, and we have the right to choose. We are tied together, and together, we will survive.
My friend Monkey had this incredible idea that he, as purely an artist, and I, as purely a writer, could take turns writing and illustrating stories together, swapping books for books every so often, and seeing where our adventures would send each other. I'm very curious to see what he creates and inspires me to create with this project.
I got my first body damage of the year this past Sunday in Morrison. I know it's horribly juvenile, but I consider these scapes and bruises and rushes of adrenaline merit badges in the lifestyle of a climber.
The extra mild winter has lent itself to beautiful sunsets, t-shirt and short days, and outdoor experiences that simply (and sadly for the global climate) can't be beat.
Today I returned to the park in Morrison after an afternoon of a couple quick boulder problems. It was a gorgeous day. The little Parson Russell I was watching seemed to enjoy the sunlight. I love the sun on a cool day.
Sometimes I wonder if I need to get my head examined. I go back and forth so often. Sometimes I am believing in myself so honestly and truly that I cannot be dissuaded from that belief. The mere thought that I cannot overcome obstacles in my way is funny to me. I am even starting to get anxious as I write this.
Other times, I will be in a deeply reflective mood. I'll be able to sit and write and write about things that may seem trivial but, for whatever reason, impact me so deeply, so very powerfully, that I find myself praying in my head, thanking the omniscent universe in control that my soul happened to be contained in a body that can share so much of it with the outside world.
I often wonder why I go back and forth between these two extremes. I wonder if anyone else in the world does this. I wonder who is watching the sun set and appreciating all of its glory as I am watching it rise and do the same. I consider my purpose, our purpose, the purpose to life and us living it.
Sunrise is only my part of my day. I may be seeing it from a parking lot, but someone may be watching it set, seeing a similar beauty, a transcendent reality, from their hut in the mountains of eastern Europe or their office in a tower in Dubai. They are strangers, not only sharing a reality with their latitude, but sharing a bigger part of it with me.
I can appreciate how much we are connected, even if we don't typically consider what is on the other side of our rising sun. When we can learn to open our eyes to those kinds of possibilities, we step closer to freeing our souls.
I captured this picture of a road less travelled. Where I grew up, it's infamous, known as the road up "Deadhorse Gulch". I'm finding that this picture represents the idea that there are always beautiful places to go, beautiful things to see, but it may not always be a super-highway that leads you there. Chances are, though, if you're looking for the beautiful places, you won't want to be on a highway anyway. You'd miss out.
We go through our lives wondering why we have to go through some of the things we do, and my dad illustrated to me that some of the times when we feel imprisoned, we're actually the most free. Sometimes we are so focused on making sure the car will speed along on the road, we don't realize where the car is. We also don't consider that if we don't focus on keeping the car running, we run the risk of breaking down and getting stuck.
We need to keep moving on this road we are on with diligence and grace, and with the ability to see what's ahead and choose our own path. It seems like it could be complicated, but I suppose it's easier than we lead ourselves to believe.
