A little less talk

This is some kind of visual summary of the things that I’ve been doing lately and the places that make me happy.  Here’s a little less talk…and a lot more goofing off.

 

 

A Few Thoughts in Happy Places

Thoughts On The Incline at Sunrise: I probably should have been sleeping, conserving energy for the workday ahead of me, tucked in under a warm blanket, eyes closed with the last letter of the alphabet hovering over my head. Zzzzzzz. But I was too busy chasing the predawn stars. I climbed those famous Manitou escaleras which were, in my mind, transformed into the ivory keys of a piano by the midnight frost.  I stepped lightly and rose high above the city lights until they resembled the twinkling sequins of a soulful jazz singer’s metallic colored gown. My heart jumped and thumped and played the bass lines in my imaginary band. As l sat at the summit, I became mesmerized by the flirtatious come-hither winks of the stars above me. They looked at me playfully as if they wanted me to dance, then run away with them and disappear at dawn. I thought ‘This is better than any sleeping dream I could ever have.’

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Thoughts On Mt. Sherman: It was one of those ultra-blue sky, cartoon rays of sunshine, perfect snow kinda days. One of those days that you hold onto and try to pull into your dreams. One of those days that pops into your head and makes you smile even when you’re stuck in traffic or waiting for your number to be called at the DMV. One of those days that reminds you why you’re alive.

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Thoughts At My Best Friend’s House: I stole your socks…like a dog. Put holes in your clothes…like a dog. Ate the food you left on the edge of the counter…like a dog. Tracked mud and dirt in your house…like a dog. Chewed up my homework…like a dog. Rode in the bed of trucks…like a dog. Slept on the floor…like a dog. Ran away…like a dog. My family says I’m a dog that they leave food out for, knowing I’ll always come back with matted hair and stickers in my feet. They feed me, play with me, and let me stick my head out of the car window on sunny days. But it is inevitable that, after time, I’ll get restless or catch the scent of some irresistible adventure…And again…I’ll run away…like a dog.

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Thoughts after Pikes Peak: To feel small is not so bad. It feels pretty gratifying in an ultra-meaningful, yet, completely insignificant way. And somehow, I feel more like I do now than I did a little while ago.