Watching the sunrise this morning was pretty amazing. Nestled in the middle of the Rocky Mountains in an isolated cabin watching the hues of morning blend together with the blankets of snow, turning the contrast way up against the pinks and purples and shadows of the birch trees.
It’s early. I have been up for several hours now. It’s not that I am not sleeping—it’s more I am sleeping in weird cycles as of late. A series of power naps with brain overload intermissions. Lots of random thoughts constantly flooding the grey matter.
It’s a good place to be doing the thinking up here in the mountains.
I’m at a mental coat-check, and I am re-claiming my stake in my love for the snow. They are having problems finding that jacket. But they know they have it. There are new memories being made and overlaying some of the previous tracks. It’s like an analog VHS tape from the 80’s, where you get a little of the previous program bleeding through the new recording.
But when I shut my eyes and the sub-conscience takes over, there is a guilty side of me that feels as if I am somehow cheating on those memories of old. How could I possibly entertain ice-skating on that rink, or eat the nachos at Coyote? Certain runs, or a particular mid-station or trail name, hooks and sticks around for later when I close my eyes.
The dreams mix up time and places, but the theme is roughly the same: a sense of guilt, a little remorse, a touch of sadness as the players in the scene realize they are a silent movie in the world of HD… always appreciated but perhaps time to be put on the shelf and made room for.
This happens every hour to an hour and a half. I wake up feeling rested, but I know how many times I got up to read a chapter to get drowsy again.
We’ll see where it goes from here. I am glad to be doing this in the cabin in the mountain. It’s a pretty backdrop from which to address the feelings….
