Today was day Two of "lessons." Skiing lessons, that is. 

One of my fellow students told me about the classes. She also lives in my building, so it was fun having a consistent, friendly face to go through the journey with. 

We came from vastly different skiing experiences. She'd been a top-notch snowboarder who wanted to learn to ski. I'd been a halfway decent skier who'd never had any lessons and hadn't skied in 14 years or so. We started at the beginning, learning the basics. 

She was more nervous than I was, and I gave her my best piece of wisdom. "The thing about skiing is that you make consistent progress. Unlike some kinds of learning, generally with skiing you get better and better. You look up at the hill you just went down and say to yourself, "Wow. I just skied that?"  

If only life was like that. 

Went back to school today. Ski school, that is. 

Technically, that's not true. I'd never taken any kind of ski instruction before. So it was my first time in ski school. Even though I wasn't a beginner, I felt like one, so I started with the basics all over again.  And you know what? It was great. 

Everyone should go "back to school." It forces you to step back and become conscious again. It also provides a sense of community, a feeling of comaraderie. Cheering on and encouraging your fellow students (which hopefully happens in "real" school – as long as the professor/teacher doesn't grade "on a curve." 

The only "curve" we had today was making turns on the snow. 

It was great. 

Now for some rest…

You hear the expression, "Follow Your Bliss" all the time.  For some, it's a mantra. For others, it's a fanciful dream.  

What does it mean to you? How do you feel when you hear those words? What is "bliss," anyway? 

Last night I went to my first meeting of the Aspen Writer's Network. The leader asked the participants to share their best writing advice. What struck me was how many of them didn't seem to consider their dreams as being blissful. So many lamented the struggles of writing, the "crappy first drafts," etc. 

Was it because they were uncomfortable proclaiming that writing was their bliss? Or was it that they really didn't enjoy the thing they seemed to want the most, which was to finish/sell their book? 

What does it say about me that I do consider writing to be blissful? That I crave the rush that comes with an inspired thought, a well-crafted sentence? 

I'm not saying every minute is enjoyable. Editing (to me) sucks. So does that dreaded waiting game to see if you can get a publisher interested, or the fear that no one will enjoy what you write (which, to me, is the worst, because it's a validation I need to get back into the bliss!)  

I had some really dark days this week. Those days when you question your existence. But today I dipped my toe back into the bliss. (I'll deal with the hell of rejection later).  

Bliss is elusive. It's precious. So grab it while you can. 

Yesterday I went hiking.  This was the temperature. Cold, right? 

Yes, technically. Plus the 8 inches or so of new snow I trudged through. But I wasn't cold because I was dressed for it. 

In fact, it was exhilarating. 

The moral of the story is to be prepared. 

When you are, there's a whole, new, beautiful world out there to explore.

One of the best things about chronicling this year is photographing the change of seasons. And thanks to my new-found freedom and ability to "walk on (frozen) water," I can explore more in the winter than I'd expected. 

The title for this post is in tribute to one of my favorite books, "The Bridge Across Forever," and it's author, Richard Bach. 

The book is about his story after "Jonathan Livingston Seagull" got popular and he decided to stop barnstorming with his airplane and look far and wide for his soulmate. In retrospect, it's a bittersweet story when you find out (spoiler alert!) that even though he found her, he has since divorced her. 

I'm convinced that if anyone had asked him when he first recognized their soul connection, Bach would have argued vehemently that it would last "forever." Today, he'd more likely say that they learned their soul lesson and/or accomplished their purpose together and then parted to learn something else from someone else. 

Either way, it's a message of impermanence. Of detachment to "forever." Which is also a message to appreciate what you have while you have it. 

This song includes the lyrics "Bridge Across Forever." And it's from Thelma and Louise. Enjoy.

This Aspen tree is visible from my place.  Oh, say can you see?  Can you see what I see? (I smudged out part of the background to make the tree stand out). It really struck me the yesterday – like eyes were looking in on me. I went for a hike to look at more Aspens, thinking this might just be a phenomena about the tree I hadn't noticed before, but I couldn't find any like this. 

Am I the first person to notice it? To write about it? To consider the message behind it? 

Each of these "eyes" seem to tell a different story. To reveal a different personality behind them. To me, one looks a little malevolent. Another looks sad. And the third looks curious, awake, watching. What do they look like to you? How should I interpret their meaning in my life?

None look particularly "adoring," but what the heck…

You've been waiting for this. I know you have.

I feel like Keanu Reeves as Neo in the Matrix when he says, "I know you're out there. I can feel you now. I know that you're afraid… you're afraid of us. You're afraid of change. I don't know the future. I didn't come here to tell you how this is going to end. I came here to tell you how it's going to begin. I'm going to hang up this phone, and then I'm going to show these people what you don't want them to see. I'm going to show them a world without you. A world without rules and controls, without borders or boundaries. A world where anything is possible. Where we go from there is a choice I leave to you."

My Matrix-like message, the one that I know you were waiting for is that yes, I do feel alone sometimes. I'm not sure I feel more "alone" here than I did before. Actually, as I ponder the thought, I feel a lot less alone here than I did in Atlanta. Yes, I moved somewhere I didn't know a soul, but I made friends – good friends – easily. Yes, Aspen is more of a challenge in that people come and go so often. Some are here only for the summer. Some leave in the off-season. And others have projects that take them elsewhere for stretches at a time. 
 

This song says it all… 
 

I've found that as I get older, I'm more cautious in a lot of ways. Not cautious in that I wouldn't move to paradise to pursue my dreams, but cautous in other ways. Is it because I'm older? Is it because I've seen more, experienced more, and know the dangers that befall us? 

Before I moved here, I was worried about slipping and falling on ice. I was also concerned about how I'd get my exercise in the wintertime. Yes, there was always skiing, but sometimes you want options, especially quicker ones like hiking on the trails right outside your front door. 

And then I moved here and because of my heart problems I have to be even more careful due to the blood-thinner medication they put me on. Falling could literally kill me. 

Multiply fears.

When I walked to a meeting on Thursday I took baby steps. I looked like I was 100 years old. Not fun. 

But then I discovered freedom, otherwise known as traction aids. They were a bear to put on my boots, but man-oh-man it was worth it. I went out hiking yesterday – over ice and through snow that was about 6 inches deep. Yes, it took a lot longer to trek a familiar trail, like it would if you were walking through sand dunes as opposed to the firmer-packed sand near the water, but I was FREE!  

Yesterday I decided to ride the bus to Glenwood Springs, about an hour away. The roads in town were thick with ice and I didn't want to risk it. I haven't gotten snow tires because, well, "why?" Why spend the money when there's affordable public transportation? 

Okay, as I learned the other night from a friend who drives a bus in Aspen, they go off the road, too. And often. So you still have to be careful. 

Anyway, checking out the mass transportation is a great way to evaluate a city. Some are clean and safe 24/7 (like here).  Some are safe only during the day. And others, well… (I'm going to Atlanta in 10 days and trying to decide if it's safe to take the MARTA train from the airport at 6:35 p.m. I'll keep you posted on that. 

As you can imagine, the busses here are very nice. The drivers are courteous and helpful and of course the scenery is divine. Yes, I had to walk to and from the bus stops, which were close but not necessarily easy, considering the treacherous navigation of ice and snow, especially carrying bags of stuff I'd gotten, but I made it. And next time will be easier because of these cool inventions I learned about that you put on your shoes. (More on that later). 

Will I take the bus again? You betcha. I'm not keen on driving in the ice and snow.  Another one rides the bus…

There are some really scary things happening in the world today. Greed seems to be eclipsing common sense. Injustice seems to be weighting the scale against truth. Intellectual and emotional blindness are expressing a louder voice than logic and knowledge. 

How does one person living alone deal with this?  How can you make a difference?  

Some say to just stay in love, to project love. To stay centered and grounded while the whole world is in chaos around you. 

Other say go out and fight. Ready your weapons. Defend what's yours, maybe even to the point of going after your attackers first. 

Perhaps there are other options. It could be uniting with other like-minded people and coming up with ideas. It could be a creative pursuit, something to make people think or feel. It could be writing a blog, whether anyone reads it or not. Or it could be something else.  As long as it's something.