Just this picture for your rest and restoration before the week ahead…
If I hadn’t spent too many months in a wheelchair as a kid, I would have loved to do this: ski pure powder, like Mercurius, winged boots, ankles practically able to rotate 360 degrees , flying through the everything clean and pure at high speed, lungs filled with snow crystals, goggles caked with snow, snow pouring over the slats….
As it is, I consider hitting a femmie stride in stilettos my favored athletic, feeling lucky to have mastered that small feat, no pun intended.
But still, when a day like this comes where I live in the Rockies, when Silverton Ski mountain had SO much snow, the chair lifts wouldn’t work, and the phone lines went down so they cant even take reservations…
and yet some few intrepid souls have snow-shoed and cross country-skied in over the top of the snow heaps taller than a tall man– and then put on their ski boots and sticks and boards to side-step excruciatingly far up the no-stairs mountain, man, the lats and gluts and soleuses needed to do that alone…
all in order to be the only scrape and shsss and breathing sounds in the midst of only wind sound, cheek against God’s cheek, to ski powder, running, jumping, leaping, diving and zig-zagging like sixty. Wow. Just wow.
the intrepid souls of this world,
such feathers on the breath of God…
the intrepid souls of this world
who take so many different forms…