Sunday, July 28, 2013


Finally stopped dreaming about blood vessels!   Thank you, brain.  I could just kiss you.

Last night I dreamed about....whoa....trail running.  I was just starting a race in the dream and was kind of enjoying it and curious about what was going to happen.  Some of you were there.

But then my tent exploded and I ___ __ ______, and, basically, the related aural curiosity woke me up.  The structural integrity of the Big Agnes Seedhouse 1 is impressive even after a moment of self destruction!

The beautiful rains came and went all night, but not until I exited the little pod in the morning, and starting fully inspecting the damage, did the whole thing collapse into the rainpuddle, on the (useless...) tarp, on the soaked earth.  Spontaneous proximal superior pole avulsion.  Even so, not a drop of rain entered the Seedhouse.

I'd had some trouble with the ocean vesp of the previous evening.   Could not seem to break my own ice. Frustrating and not right, not right at all.  The group sang a song called Sanctuary (a different Sanctuary) on the walk back.

I love to learn songs from people, in person.  Sanctuary is a lullaby.  I made up a countermelody to whistle softly in the melodic gaps since I didn't know the words.  If you've never walked along in the dark, on the damp forested coast, with a group of Kindness singing a lullaby, you ought to try it.

And the next day, on the summit, in the sun, the peace and I were reunited.  Vesping on Sargent Mountain was exactly what I needed.  That was what I'd been missing.

Every summer, it's like a little reset.  A reminder that this small bit of time is wildly important.  Stop making it so hard for yourself.  This is free, it's available, just take the moments to accept non-action, and make it happen...

Spent some time picking a hundred little bluebs before continuing.

I fear my Grand Teton sunburn-stripe is officially gone.  Over a year since that particular, bewildering, beguiling, _____, ____________, ______ ascent.  Still close in mind, though.  Not sure what to do with this  most unwieldy love.

Some intolerable fucks are violating a cowbell next door at the Grange.  What in the name of fuck makes these morons think they can noise-pollute without the slightest attempts at honest-to-goodness musicality?  Your rote "riffs" are vacant and you are just too goddamn loud.  It isn't necessary.  You are saying nothing.  Rawr, venom.

I am sorry (to myself, mostly) about the anger. It's semi nothing.  Just don't like overbearing excess, that much.  Who doesn't!?  And I think they'll stop polluting shortly.  And I'll stop right now.  It is extremely rare that there is anything but loons out here!   I love that.

Mountain nest vesp...

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