Crested Butte, September 2013
Summertime. Powerful summertime. A concentrated batch of summertime. In Crested Butte, it’s one month. August. Extending partially into September. I’m lucky enough to have caught this brief extension. The mountainsides glow with greens and yellows of every conceivable shade. Trees of absolute perfection. Not a leaf or limb out-of-place. Everything vibrantly, excruciatingly alive. Just a few stray leaves have turned yellow. Fall has not yet arrived. I sip my ice-cold Modelo while sitting in my camp chair next to my car, somewhere along Gothic Road. It tastes divine. Decadent. Luxurious. The way it always does after a good ride.
The 401 mountain bike trail is possibly the most scenic trail in all of America. I think plenty would agree. Of course there is the Flume trail in Tahoe. The Llama trail in Sedona. Amasa Back in Moab. But I’m not in Sedona. I’m not in Moab. I’m in Crested Butte. So why make comparisons? For now, I’ll take the present moment over any other one. And for the moment, this is the most beautiful place I’ve ever been. The summer grasses have turned a golden-yellow. But the tundra blanketing the mountain slopes still glow a velvet green. The breeze is warm. The clouds are in constant movement. Building. Threatening. And then dissipating. Suggesting change. Storms. Snow. Powder. Our Crested Butte playground will change. But for now, the summer sun heats my skin. Warms my soul. Ideally, one could take the month of August off, spend it lollygagging around the mountains of Crested Butte, and be completely satisfied with summer. They would then go back to work sun-kissed. Sparkly-eyed. With a satisfied soul. That sense of longing would be relinquished. At least until the slopes become sufficiently blanketed with snow. February perhaps. Then the longing would resume. And by March, another month off would be mandatory. Inevitable. Completely unavoidable. So August and March in Crested Butte it is. With a jaunt to Utah in February. And Sedona in October. But let’s not forget the ocean. We mustn’t go a year without a visit to the ocean.
Welcome to my world. My dilemma. When do we squeeze in work? Well no plans for January, April, June, July, September, November, and December. Seven months for work. Five for play. Not quite an even split. Fair? Well, until I find a better plan, a more equitable split, it will have to do.
Living deliberately. That’s what we’re talking about here. Working to play. Planning your year. As if it were your last. Is it not? Prove it to me. What dream world are you living in that makes you believe you will live another year? Another day? Another minute? Another breath?
I take another breath. Long and deep. Full of mountain air. Flowers. I indulge in one more. Slow. Deliberate. Decadent. It’s a miracle. I take another sip of my Modelo. Number 2. Ice cold, just like the last. Ahh yes, I am in love. In love for the first time. With nothing in particular. Just in love. And why shouldn’t I be? What better feeling is there? In all of the universe? Than the feeling of being in love. No. There’s no better feeling. I sit with it for a while. The air buzzes. Feelings of opportunity. Abundance. Excitement. A world full of wonder. So much to explore. All the time in the world to do it. A glass half full. A life half lived. We are mid-show. Setbreak. And the second set is always better than the first! That’s where the party really starts. The warm up is complete. Now we jump into the fire. Into the unknown. Into the abyss. Where the unobserved wave-particle awaits. Full of boundless potential. What will it be? Observe it with fear, resentment, boredom, and that’s what it will become. Observe it with love, gratitude, excitement, and your second set will be magical beyond your wildest dreams. Taking you to new territories. New dimensions. To a life that awaits, only for you.