I woke up on a perfect winter morning while the sun slumbered behind snowing skies. My crusty eyes opened without any dark circles of obligation for once and my breath filled me with a flourishing freedom. I lied there for a moment and merely existed, before the pounding of my heart and rushing of my blood pulled me forth to take on the world once again. This restlessness of the ocean inside me guided me as I transitioned from who I was towards a me more capable of grander and love. On this morning I felt a freshness of mind that set me forth with strong strides in the winding direction of a future so enlightening and so ideal in its flaws, and what could I do with myself but seek out a sweet adrenaline to satisfy a piece of my wandering soul? I decided to go. I, with a deep intuition and knowing, left my doorstep with oatmeal on my lip, skis on my back, and the intent to make decisions and create the life that is genuine to me and to this world that I have found worth being part of. My mind was waiting for me in the mountains and my soul was with me in the snow. So, in good company, I bounded forward on the road. My brothers sat beside me and we shared the bumps of the potholes that put hiccups in our laughter. These memories in making were tinted through golden filters of familiarity and understanding. Onward and ahead, we saw the mountains looming with a million-year-old confidence that I sought to adopt. While I held slight fear in my heart for what was to come, I also held my own sweaty hand as comfort. I was full of vulnerability and courage and I still sat giddy in the car because I knew I was living and nothing could be greater.
Soon it was midday and the clouds loitered around the edges of the sky as if they were suspicious of the sun. Beams of light ricocheted off of goggles and snow and beads of sweat that were caught in my oldest brother's beard. The hard work and constant determination of the hike up was a way of earning our run and it made the view taste so much sweeter. Finally able to rest, I planted a granola bar in my mouth and squinted through a frame of icy eyelashes to see a sight I had seen before, every day for the past week, but still punched the air out of my lungs. The powder was up to my thighs and the snow lovingly seeped its way into my boots just to kiss my toes with painful numbing. I wiggled them to try tickling some sanity and warmth into them. I only hoped that my now purple toenails would not fall off. I pulled up my balaclava to dodge the lunges of frostbite's ravenous teeth. Each nip of cold, the company of my brothers, the view, and the raw interaction with the mountain created a moment that reeked of a dream: a seemingly perfect balance between pain and pleasure, just the right mixture to allow for maximum appreciation.
The hype of the day kept us from settling our thoughts and quickly my siblings were bounding down the mountain. I felt freedom in the love I had for the mountain and for my four brothers whose elated screams echoed off of the mountain ranges. I joined their chorus of mountain yodelling and embraced the carefree mindset of Mother Nature. My skis led the way and found fresh tracks. The lines of the songs that blasted through my headphones were translated into the lines that I skied. The music shuffled with an abrupt change of pace that did not hinder my happiness. The random shuffling of songs only fed my innate addiction to change and let my enthusiasm multiply and blossom. With a knack for going with the flow, I knew that what the universe hands me is often what I need, and today I needed to listen to the soothing tones of The Tibetan Monks of Gaden Sharste & Corciolli as I sped down the slopes.
Although childish in our hearts and in our unpracticed aerials, we were not childish in our perspective. We had a shared understanding of the bigger picture, an open-mindedness that comes with being a small, overrated mammal sliding on some sticks down the biggest thing it could get its hands on. Each of us took our fair share of tumbles and we accompanied each with cacophonous laughter muffled by mouthfuls of snow. To be atop a mountain, and to feel its indifference to you, really teaches the skill of not taking things too seriously. I grabbed some air and crashed into a disorganized pile of all my gear. But my commitment to the bettering of my skills, my world, and myself, let me rise from even my most deadly of wrecks not unscathed but changed and always for the better. With such a brutal fall, I gained the experience necessary for landing it next time...and I did.
After reaching the bottom, without hesitancy, we followed our spontaneous urges to pursue more. Every moment spent on that mountain came from a drive to experience and learn. It was based off of my ceaseless search for something new... or for learning or for the rad or for the gnar or for swagger or for living a life that could inspire. The seed of this search was planted in me by my five older siblings who all held within their bellies a fire of the same breed. And we sewed that common thread together on ridge lines and in powdered fields where nature is in perfect harmony with man and my head is in perfect harmony with my heart...where my intelligence and ambition trust one another and I trust them because they have gotten me this far and I know they are not tired yet.
