snow drifts.
I got a card in the mail from a friend today, inside was a picture from the summer. the two of us in front of this crazy ravine with slate.
you can't see it in the picture, mostly only the ugly metal side rail to keep people from going over, and pines winding into the distance.
we threw little pebbles by the roadside into the deep pools of water that cut into the rock far far below.
they'd make a plopping sound that'd echo if we got it right.
the pools were narrow, but so so deep.
that day we had hiked up to the top of this hill surrounded by trees and closed ourselves into a little hut with about 40 other people and sweated it out.
I battled my own demons in there, moans and stifled cries from others piercing into the darkest dark.
each time the door was lifted, after moments, or hours..
the summers sun greeted me and the air felt cool and sweet.
I greeted the sky, the fire, the east and the west.
I thanked it all.
we didn't talk.
but smiled at each other from across the field.
later he walked me to our bunk because I had a headache from not enough water.
I sat on the steps and watched night creep in on a pond at the dirt roads edge.
I thought I heard a million different frogs talking to each other, different croaks and chirps.
as the sun set it grew quieter and quieter, until only a few voices remained , the water breaking here and there, trees whispering to first show of stars
---
I watched a movie in Swedish today.
the way the words tumbled and flowed out of their mouths, certain sounds like hushes..
it was familiar.
I remembered Denmark. my friend Josef.
--
I think about these things and wonder if i told you all these stories. the right stories.
maybe my heart is telling them to you now.
.
the card and the picture hang by my desk so I can see them and be reminded.
I am so very lucky.
it's a beautiful thing.
you can't see it in the picture, mostly only the ugly metal side rail to keep people from going over, and pines winding into the distance.
we threw little pebbles by the roadside into the deep pools of water that cut into the rock far far below.
they'd make a plopping sound that'd echo if we got it right.
the pools were narrow, but so so deep.
that day we had hiked up to the top of this hill surrounded by trees and closed ourselves into a little hut with about 40 other people and sweated it out.
I battled my own demons in there, moans and stifled cries from others piercing into the darkest dark.
each time the door was lifted, after moments, or hours..
the summers sun greeted me and the air felt cool and sweet.
I greeted the sky, the fire, the east and the west.
I thanked it all.
we didn't talk.
but smiled at each other from across the field.
later he walked me to our bunk because I had a headache from not enough water.
I sat on the steps and watched night creep in on a pond at the dirt roads edge.
I thought I heard a million different frogs talking to each other, different croaks and chirps.
as the sun set it grew quieter and quieter, until only a few voices remained , the water breaking here and there, trees whispering to first show of stars
---
I watched a movie in Swedish today.
the way the words tumbled and flowed out of their mouths, certain sounds like hushes..
it was familiar.
I remembered Denmark. my friend Josef.
--
I think about these things and wonder if i told you all these stories. the right stories.
maybe my heart is telling them to you now.
.
the card and the picture hang by my desk so I can see them and be reminded.
I am so very lucky.
it's a beautiful thing.