Reaching out can get blurry sometimes

Driving into the hills and I couldn’t feel it yet. But I knew it was coming. The place had become a legend in my own mind, and I really didn’t know anything about it. People always said how amazing Red Rocks Amphitheater was, and it was starting to hit me as we walked up the smooth red steps in the cool, cool night. Michael Franti was about to come on and at fifty-one dollars, it was the most expensive show I had ever gone to. But that meant nothing to me now, as I looked around and straight into the souls of thousands upon thousands of people. It was easy, the crowd inviting itself to become better aquatinted as a variety of items were passed amongst each other. Hungrily I ate up everything that came my way, often with no regard- or idea- to what it was. Every time I looked over to my friend Greg, he had a new snack and was eager to share, from red vines to hot dogs, to chewy cookies that somebody somewhere made. It was exciting, and I was surrounded by so many amazing people. The music echoed off the natural landscape and was truly alive. Fireworks lit up the Denver skyline as a full moon rose and the beat dug deep into our heads. The message was simple and timeless, relevant and natural. It felt good to be there, as there was a mood of hope.

There were other moods too. Some were there to escape, some to explore, some just to dance. But as the night went on, the crowd grew together as the mood took on a natural progression through all emotions.

Driving away we were all drained. My head was out the window letting the warm breeze relax me. I noticed a simple memorial, to Vietnam- the war- those that are gone. Hanging on the fence like a six year old, waiting for his friends to come out to play, was a tired old man. A veteran no doubt. You could see it in his eyes, the way he stared at the bronze M-16 standing upright out of the ground with a helmet balanced on top of the barrel. He was so alone. I wanted to reach out and hug him. Tell him that I had no idea what he had been through, but that I wanted to try to understand. But the car moved on and the moment passed. No one else saw him, and then he was gone. As I fell asleep I thought of him, and of my long drive out west.

This home is a castle

We sat around for a while and then we sat some more. The scene was boring, with the TV muffled in the background. The three of us were turning into vegetables before each others eyes up in the attic, but we were far from bored. This castle was our home for the week, a haven for sleep and preparation for the adventures soon to come. Jenny had to work during the day, while Jordan and I quickly developed a sibling bond based around our blogs. The time reminds me how lucky we are to have such a precious thing as perspective.

life is just a ride

Being ridiculed for my lifestyle choices is something I have grown accustomed to. Which is why the last week in June has been so refreshing for me year after year. A gathering of like minded souls reminds me that I am not alone. In fact, I am not that far out on the spectrum at all. As we fill each other in on our adventures over the past year, I hear stories from friends with masters’ degrees in science taking a year off to be a lift operator at a ski resort, or working in Antarctica for six months, and then taking some down time in India and Nepal. Being around so many inspirational leaders that are so comfortable with the way they live (i.e. wandering) lets me catapult into my true self, embracing my dreams and appreciating that life does not have to be how the mainstream dictates.

doesn't change a thing

The heat stung my nostrils, so I breathed in thru my mouth. That tickled my lungs; it was time to get out. I thanked the wrinkled old man for his story and stepped out of the little wooden room, rinsed off, and jumped into the pool. I was late for the training, but the old man in the sauna intrigued me, and I had a feeling I didn’t miss much. I dove under the water and retrieved a rubber boy. After administering CPR to the disturbingly lifeless, life size doll, I was told I was now a lifeguard…again. Boggles the mind.

delayed arrival

Denver welcomed me with a cold Tecate and good friends. The drive from Moab was hot and lonely. I got a flat tire in the middle of nowhere. Part of the jack was missing. Twenty minutes later, a car pulled up. It wasn't AAA. Instead, my long time friend Becki Kirby, her son Brayden, and Ethan, aka 'the six nippled man' happened to be driving back to Vail and gave me a hand. After words... we enjoyed cheeseburgers and milkshakes. What a small world indeed.

Oh the places you'll go

Water is everything that has ever mattered. Especially when you’re on the river. We put in at the west water ranger station, and surrendered ourselves to the current for a couple of days. It was beautiful and inspiring. It reminded me of sailing; one minute can be so peaceful and relaxing, while the next can transform into a life threatening rollercoaster where every decision is a critical one. A boat flipped and lost its oars. Everyone was alright, but it took about an hour of separation and confusion to figure it all out. It’s weird when you are expecting to see a raft come around the bend, but instead all you see is an empty milk jug.

Desert Solitaire

This is the reason I drive instead of fly places. Nothing else needs to be said.

This journey has begun

I went wake-boarding this morning before I drove the roads of four states. The water was cold; the kind of cold that when you put your head under, you cant help but smile and you don't know why. Its a special feeling, to be so humbled and have so much fun at the same time, that it is saved for those rare occasions when you are ready to fathom such a thing. I drove away from the mountain both sore, and refreshed.
I lied down in the grass at the park across the street from my friends' Anna and Nate's' house when I had finished my long, hellacious drive thru the desert. I felt the breeze that I heard in the leaves of the old oak that stood over me. It was so peaceful as I overheard one of my favorite Modest Mouse songs being sung by some kid with a guitar. Bankrupt on Selling is what it is called. I looked up at twilight, and watched it fade into night.