If you've followed my tales of travails about trails (sorry, I couldn't resist. I'm a writer, after all), you know the distress I've felt by not being able to do real hiking. Instead of being able to climb and hike, I've been limited to flat terrain. 

It's fine. Like most disappointments in life, I've adjusted and found things to enjoy at ground level. Yet when I looked up (literally and metaphorically), I felt a yearning to rise. To go higher. 

On the one-month anniversary of my cardioversion "shock" treatment, I mustered up the courage to try to climb Smuggler's Mountain again. 

I hadn't done it since the day before I went to the emergency room with fluid in my lungs. Yes. It was this trail that "done me in" as they say. 

So to set this goal was a bit scary. Like any good goal should. 

Yet I did it. 

And for good measure, I did it again the next day. 

Last night I did something I would have never considered doing when I was in Atlanta. Not because this kind of event didn't happen. But more because here it was THE happening. 

I went to the school talent show. There were kids from third grade to 12th grade performing. Some were fun-loving acts to make people laugh and others were talents that had been well cultivated over years of practice. And some were natural, instinctive talents. There were singers, musicians, comedians and dancers, and it was loads of fun. 

Not having been a parent, going to the show was a novelty for me. And not knowing any of the kids or families I could be objective. Good or bad, it was loads of fun! 

When I first moved here, I kept noticing these birds I'd never seen before. At first, they look like a crow. But when they take flight, you see the magnificence in their design. 

According to some sources, the Magpie is one of the most intelligent birds in the world. (See video below).

As a huge devotee of Darwin, it could be argued that this magnificence could be a result of "natural selection." But somehow I think it's something (or someone) else. 

So let's talk about "intelligent design." When I discussed wildflowers, I suggested, "someone is having fun upstairs." I feel the same about the magpie – or Maggie, as I call them. This bird is a spectacular example of "intelligent design." There was thought put into this use of color and geometry. 

So today I challenge you. Go out into nature and look for something suggesting Intelligent Design. And report back to me here or on my Facebook page: 

https://www.facebook.com/365DaysinAspen/

It's interesting when the weather fits your mood. When the heaviness of the clouds mimick the heaviness in your heart and the skies seem to be weeping for you. 

Living in paradise makes you less equipped to handle the dark days. But they come anyway. And they're (usually) necessary. Important, even. 

One of the biggest challenges I have in my life is handling disappointment. I get excited about a project, about it's potential (usually it's ability to really make a difference in people's lives) and then poof! it's gone. Over. Finito. 

Back to the drawing board. Pick up your bootstraps. Gray skies are gonna clear up. All that crap. 

My mother's mantra was "Don't get your hopes up." Hidden within that message was an expectation of failure. Of lowering expectations to a manageable level, perhaps. Or probably more like a not-so-subtle message not to try at all.  

It's safer not to try. Not to take a risk. So go the easy route. 

On this gray, rainy day, I'll have to ponder that message. As I say in my Reasons Why book: "Face it, Feel it, Free it."  

First I was afraid, I was petrified. 

Okay, not really. But it is a good song lyric. You can't help but finish the phrase and sing along. 

The theme of this blog is 365 Days in Aspen. There's an implication in the title suggesting that I'm here for a limited time. The truth is, I don't know what's going to happen. I just knew I could only afford to stay for a year without worrying about survival. It was my gift to myself. 

But that's the thing about falling in love. You don't want to be parted from your beloved. You'll do anything to work it out; to create forever. 

A lot of the people who live here have the same passion. They'll do anything to stay. They're thrilled with a job that might depress them in another location. They'll minimize their space and purchases, paying more for location with proximity or a view that reminds them of why they're here. 

So here I am – 121 days – one third of my adventure and starting to feel the pressure to pick up the pace so I can survive. So I can stay here indefinitely. It's a curious combination of pressure and ease. The perfect space for creative motivation. Enough of a challenge to take some risks and push myself, but not enough to feel desperation. It's like I see the tides rising but I'm not standing on top of my roof screaming for rescue. 

Do I believe as Emerson suggests – that the universe will conspire to help make it happen? If I'm destined to be here, absolutely. If I'm meant to move on, then, well, that's the path I'll end up taking. 

Stay tuned.

This is an excerpt from my children's book, "Sometimes I Wonder," from my Wonderactive Books series, and it's probably my favorite verse in all the books. 

The previous verse, "So we set up our challenges like mountains so high, to test our endurance and reach for the sky," suggests society's obsession with setting and achieving goals. Yet, like my attempt to re-climb Smuggler's mountain the other day was an achievement in and of itself. It didn't matter if I got to the top. It mattered much more, in this case, that I didn't push myself too hard. That I listened to my body. 

And that I was exhilarated as I descended, proud of the accomplishment I did make. 

The image on this page of my book also indicates our disillusionment with what is "high" and what is "low." Like Esher's famous staircase artwork, it can get confusing. 

Why are we so obsessed with achievement? I don't know. And I don't condemn it. It keeps us motivated. It opens us up to change and evolution and growth. 

We just need to remember: It doesn't much matter if we get to the top. What matters much more is what we do when we stop..

If you want to hear me reciting the book at an event called Failure Lab in Atlanta, click below…

In this "attitude of gratitude" society, there's so much pressure to look on the bright side, find things to be happy about, to celebrate even the smallest success. 

These same "philosophers" also proclaim that unhappiness is "all in your head" and that you need to find your joy. Basically, they're "dissing" dissatisfaction.

So here I go with a controversial statement. One I suspect these people will be "dissatisfied" with. 

Dissatisfaction is under-rated. 

Complacency is the enemy. 

As a true logophile (lover of words), I discovered something interesting when I compared the synonyms of the word "Satisfaction" with the antonyms of "Dissatisfaction." (See below). You'd think they would be the same list of words, wouldn't you? 

But they're not. And hence, as Shakespeare would say, lies the rub. 

Let's look at the first synonym to Satisfaction: Achievement. Huh? How can achievement be the same as satisfaction? Isn't one the result of the other? Achievement is a result of a drive, of effort, of stetting a goal and having the determination to complete it. 

Of dis-satisfaction. After all, if you were 100% at ease, in repletion, contentment and serene you wouldn't have the motivation to achieve. 

True innovation requires a certain level of dissatisfaction with how things are. That's what motivates us to try new things, to explore options. 

And for me to "tackle the monster" yesterday. The mountain I had climbed the day before I went to the hospital. The one that put too much pressure on my heart to continue. The one that I've been prohibited from attempting in all these weeks since. I didn't push myself too hard, and I didn't go all the way to the top. 

But ahhh… the Satisfaction!  

People who move to small towns often say they like the sense of community they find there. The "neighbors helping neighbors" vibe. 

Me? I'd always preferred cities. More opportunities to learn and expand your mind. More diversity. Less provincial. 

But what if you could have the best of both worlds? The mind-expansion and creative thinking of a city combined with the unity that comes with a smaller town. Oh, and enough shifting of the population to keep it free from stagnation? 

A community. 

As a writer, "they don't let me out much." I get too distracted to try to write in a public place, so I stay at home alone a lot. It limits the number of people I meet in a day. (If I worked in a bakery, as someone suggested, I'd meet people all day long.)  So yesterday was special. I worked for about 10 hours and went out twice. Once to do a long walk and then to an evening event. 

During the walk I ran into two people I know. One from my Aspen Screenwriters and Playwrights group and one from a party I attended. Such a small but significant joy! It's not that I don't sometimes see people I know here and there, but now, with the off season in full swing, the numbers are fewer. It's like being in a Facebook group with thousands of members versus one with a smaller, more intimate group. 

I expected to see one or two people I knew at the event – a bookstore hosting a writer's event, where writers were reading some of their work. I didn't expect to meet new friends. 

Let's get together and feel alright…