Call me crazy – I don't care. But I've had enough experience in life to believe astrology, especially Mercury in Retrograde. 

From my experience, it's certainly not the optimum time to start anything new, and especially not the time to sign any contracts. 

The good news is that it does give you a chance to sit back and observe. To re-think and regroup. 

We can live on such a fast-track that we forget to do this. So Mercury in Retrograde is a reminder – even if it is by fire – to get off our treadmills and make sure we're going in the right direction. 

What does all this have to do with 365 Days in Aspen? Well if nothing else it's a reminder for all of us to take a break and not push ourselves so hard. 

Here's hoping your day – and the rest of Retrograde – goes well for you!

Admittedly, I walk around with stars in my eyes, still entralled with the environment here. The quesion is – is this the honeymoon phase, or is it everlasting love? 

Yesterday a couple asked me, "Are you a local?" The question – and my answer – "yes" – made me smile, both inwardly and outwardly as well.

Aspen in fascinating in that it's a unique (and ideal) blend of tourists, part-timers and locals. The tourists keep things dynamic, offering new opportunities to meet someone new and interesting. Their "go for it" mentality perpetuates them to live life to the fullest while they're here, to savor each moment as voraciously as they partake in the local cuisine. 

The part-timers I've met choose Aspen as their home for the summers. It's an ideal escape from the heat in other parts of the country. In Atlanta it would get too hot to do things outside, while here you can enjoy the outdoors a LOT more. 

Yet it's the locals that interest me the most. So many people I meet have lived here for decades. They're not among the "rich and famous." They just love living here and will do whatever they can to continue. The stars are still in their eyes. Some have their own businesses, some taking whatever jobs they can get, and some are firmly integrated into the community, working for the city or local businesses, schools or hospitals. 

I have yet to meet anyone who's grown up here. I look forward to that. To find out how it feels to attend the schools in the pictures above. To look out and be surrounded by the beckoning ski slopes and hiking trails. 

I moved from Georgia, a humid subtropical climate that gets 54 inches of rain a year (far more than the US average of 37), where today's weather forecast is to reach 89 (one of the few days of the summer that'll be below 90), and a low of 67 with 51% humidity, to Aspen, a more arid climate, with a high predicted to reach 75, a low of 47 with 28% humidity. 

In Atlanta, fall colors are weeks away – usually in late October, yet here in Aspen peeks of yellow are already changing the landscape. Of course the altitude and latitude are the major contributing factors. The coordinates in Atlanta are: 33°45′18″N 84°23′24″W with an altitude of 1050 feet. Aspen is locaed at: 39°10′54″N 106°50′26″W  with an altitude in the town of 7908.  (The mountains reach thousands of feet higher). 

One of the reasons I moved here is the cooler nights. There's nothing like the comfort of cuddling up in blankets to foster a good night's rest. 

Here's a song by Dan Fogelberg I used to listen to, to remind me of Aspen…

As a writer, I love words. Especially words that invite mulitple meanings. Double entendres, similies and metaphors get my mind swirling with possibilities. 

I've written about the rain in Aspen a few times. The breathtaking vision of the clouds on the mountains. How it feels like it's raining here, isolated from the rest of the world.

The weather is another aspect of this place that is so different from my experience anywhere else. I moved here from Atlanta, headquarters of the Weather Channel and where the weather was as predictable as s*** happening when Mercury is in retrograde. The weather in Aspen is far less dependable. Meterologists here appear to be partaking in the legalized marijuana, since I don't think they've been accurate one day I've been here. While it does seem to rain just about every day, the time of day is only accurately determined when the puddles are forming. 

So what does all this mean? What's the lesson? The message?  

Unpredictability for sure. Being prepared for anything. Being thankful, knowing that so many people in other cities would give anything for the rain or the clear, crisp air. Having the excited confidence that rain today will turn into snow in just a couple of months, blanketing the slopes for powdery skiing.  

And also thinking about the different definitions of "precipitation," including the sympolism of impetus. Movement. Haste. Change. 

This song, by Don Henley, demonstrates the desperate need for rain in some parts of the country, especially California:

And this song, one of my favorites, indicates the symbolism of rain in its ability to "wash away" our past and usher us into a new future. 

It's my goal to write this blog every day, (which I have, with the exception of my time in the hospital). 

Some days, the ideas flow effortlessly. I could write about a number of topics. And then there are other days it feels forced. Either I have so many things bouncing around like a pinball-machine in my brain, or I simply "draw a blank." 

As I wrote about in my post called "Free-Flowing," the right brain is the opening to creativity. Yet sometimes there are too many "left brain" things to do in a day, and trying to write or create from the left brain is an exercise in futility. Yes, you can write, but it comes out forced or fake. 

So today I'll just accept that this post will be what it is. And hope that perhaps my transparency also delivers a meaningful message. 

A lovely – and loving – friend posted this quote on Facebook today. As the author of my book, Five Reasons Why Bad Things Happen, I literally "wrote the book" on things happening for a reason. Today's post relates to the power of having this belief.

I'm fully aware that some people think we live in a random universe. That nothing happens "for a reason." That the only power we carry is in how we react to the things that happen to us. 

I'm not sure about you, but this doesn't work for me. What would be the point in a random universe? Wouldn't that mean that there is no God? Or certainly a powerless, if not indifferent one? 

I delve into this question in the preface of my Reasons Why book. (To read, click here.) 

So – how does all this relate to my 365 Days in Aspen? Well it certainly helps me as I deal with the health issues I'm facing in my new home. While it's not fun to face these physical challenges, nor is it a picnic to consider that I might have to move from the place I'm falling more in love with every day, I am able to consider the "bigger picture." 

Do I know the "reasons why" my body isn't cooperating with the altitude? Not yet. But I do know enough to "go with the flow" and see where the experience takes me. What I might learn. Who I might meet. 

Now – we sing and dance:

To paraphrase Einstein, when considering time, "It's all relative." 

I moved to Aspen from Atlanta, a city consistently listed as having some of the worst traffic in the US. I lived in a very central area of town for this very reason. Why compound the traffic problem by living somewhere further out – or more congested? Yet still if I was going out, I would have to give myself at least an hour to get where I was going. Sometimes an hour an a half! It could sometimes take me an hour to navigate the 1.3 miles to the highway. 

In Aspen, the time to get somewhere is more often measured by your walking speed. Six minutes to drive to the hospital is roughly a 40 minute walk from my house. Where it gets tricky is when I feel the need to "go back" to a more suburban type of lifestyle. One with a Target, Great Clips and a Bed Bath and Beyond. Or a full-size, fully-stocked supermarket. So sometimes I need to make a trek to Glenwood Springs, which I did yesterday. 

It takes about an hour to make the drive. A relatively peaceful, minimal-traffic, spectacular-view drive. "An hour!" one part of me wails. "An hour? Only an hour?" another part exclaims. 

Time is all relative. 

One of my favorite books is called "The Yoga of Time Travel" by Fred Alan Wolf (above.) If you've seen the movie, "What The Bleep?" you might remember him – the guy with the crazy Einstein hair in front of the Opera House in San Francisco. Wikipedia calls him, "an American theoretical physicist specializing in quantum physics and the relationship between physics andconsciousness."   Yep. Smart guy. 

To summarize one of my learnings from this book is that there are ways to "speed up" time, and ways to slow it down. 

As Don Henley and the Eagles suggest… just make sure it's not "Wasted Time."  

I went to the doctor yesterday and saw this classic Peter Max artwork in his office. We talked about my options for fixing my (literal) "broken heart." 

Ironically, my heart will (figuratively) break if it can't be fixed and I'm not able to stay here.  

I've often said that "hell is wanting something you'll never get." So to live here in the land of physicality, of challenging endurance and tackling mountains, and not be able to participate lends to a kind of existential crisis.

Who am I? Why am I here? 

It could be a temporary setback. My cardiologist could be instantly successful with a hit of electrical voltage. I could walk out of the procedure and "good as new" in 2 weeks. 

Or I could be like a diabetic working in a bakery. An alcoholic tending bar.  

In the meantime, let's sing a tribute to the "heart." Beautiful song: 

Dave Grusin's "The Heart is a Lonely Hunter." 

As a writer, sometimes the words just flow. Your brain moves faster than your fingers can type. Your imaginary friends are so excited to talk and tell you about their "lives" they speak a mile a minute. 

And sometimes they're mute. 

Crickets.

The portal to creativity is through the right brain. While the left side of our brain is great for things like doing taxes or putting together an Ikea shelf, it's the right side that opens us up to inventive, original thinking. Art, music, writing, and more. 

I believe the right brain is our connection to Spirit. To the Divine Source. In her groundbreaking book, "My Stroke of Insight," Jill Bolte Taylor, a neuroanatomist, tells of her experience having a stroke in her left brain. She was left with "only" right brain awareness, and the story is beyond incredible. This excerpt from an article on her book describes it perfectly: 

Strangely, after her stroke, she felt a powerful euphoria, and that awareness of the state of near spiritual intensity never left her. So during a years-long and difficult recovery, she felt remarkably upbeat and happy, even when she had only a few minutes of energy during the day. Living primarily through right brain experience completely changed her sense of who she was.

She lost the feeling of separation from other people, declaring we are all "one." What I believe Jung would have called her "opening to the collective unconscious." 

As a creative person, sometimes this portal is wide open, like standing in a blizzard and ideas are like snowflakes you just have to reach out and touch – before they melt. And sometimes it feels like you're in a dark room searching for the slightest flicker of light. You're looking for anything to create that spark. Thankfully, I'm not much of a drinker or drug-taker. Meditation and isolation is the best path. When that doesn't work, I put the creative stuff aside and focus on checking off the things from my "left brain list," like reading articles or, yes, doing taxes or working with numbers. 

Check out Jill's Ted Talk: 

Look up in the sky, especially in the mornings and mid-day, and you're likely to see parasailers enjoying the weather and the mountains. 

Seeing this has a way of lifting your heart. The idea of these adventurers feeling the lift, hearts racing with excitement, taking in the breathtaking vistas, embracing life. No, it's not a sport for the overly cautious. It takes a certain amount of courage-mixed-with-recklessness. It's not for the "watchers." It's for the "doers."

I remember when I used to hang glide, a guy came up to me and said he had no interest in taking lessons. "Just give me a kite and I'll teach myself." 

My response? "We hate people like you. You go and kill yourself and give the sport a bad name." 

I'm so glad I did this, took these chances, when I was younger. I wasn't a daredevil, but I was a go-for-it kind of person. 

Which is the same characteristic that brought me here to Aspen.