Swimming In December

It's not snow but it is my white flood rock

Wow was it ever rainy and dark this morning. By the end of the walk I felt just like I had been swimming. I love that feeling of being all wet and getting out of the water. And yes, I could have used a towel and my pants were all stuck to my legs but still I was grateful and exhilarated.

It is not often that we have a warm rain in December. It is not even remotely conducive to skiing, which is what we economically need to be doing these days. It is sort of overwhelming here how much we want the weather to cooperate with our business plans and how much this year the weather has said no. And how strongly.

I find myself giving in. I don’t have more stress to give to worrying about when the gallery will be ready or when the mountain will open. I’ve used up all my stress this year. And what I am learning from depleting my stress bank: next year, I’d like to remember to forget to re-up.

Wasting time and money

This morning the word was waste. Yuck. I dislike wasting time, money, food, gas, you name it, I don’t like to waste it. Some days driving to the morning walk I think I am wasting gas. Then I get there:

 

This is where I turn around:

This is almost back to the beginning of the trail head:

Most everyday it is just that beautiful. I have a deep and profound gratitude to be able to make that daily trek. Yet without doubt I question my energy commitment to the time and gas it takes to walk the walk. So too, all my adult life, I have questioned my time and energy commitment to art, to community work and to beauty. As you can imagine, Irene has put me right up against the wall  questioning those commitments and choices. And three months out, as difficult as this time is, my answer remains the same, what else is there?