There is no telling what secrets and revelations may haunt in these lonesome wee hours of the night. I spent four days on empty roads, walked in untrammeled alpine meadows and slept among the verdant aspen groves on the slopes of the Rocky Mountains before returning home to my beloved high desert. It’s always hard to sleep after such a trip. There’s something about long drives and nights in the woods steeped in the silvery glow of a full moon that sticks in the mind and chases away sleep. Now sitting on my little porch at 3am, listening to a quiet breeze in the cottonwoods and savoring each lungful of sage scented desert air, the moments replay in my mind, peaceful, beautiful and rewarding.
Somewhere in Colorado, a local radio announcer spoke longingly of his “weekend getaway” in the mountains. In this land of opportunity, why would anyone choose a life they need to get away from? Why do so many spend their lives in fear of living; constantly seeking to silence and distract themselves from the mournful calling of unfulfilled dreams? So many work to satisfy others, to mimic others, to become others; willingly sacrificing the majority of their own precious time on this magical Earth in what Thoreau so perfectly termed “a life of quiet desperation.”
Upon returning, a friend sent me a link to a video produced as to inspire, and proclaiming that “it’s in these rare moments that you really feel alive.” How very sad. Why should feeling alive be confined to rare moments? When you think about it, if feeling alive is not worth taking risks and breaking away from self-imposed confinement, what is? And if those “rare moments” are the only times you feel alive, what do you feel the rest of the time? If you don’t like the answer, what will you do about it? The clock is ticking. Life is fleeting. If you don’t feel alive now, when will you?
If you are of a certain age, you know the feeling of astonishment at the thought of years and decades gone by. A memory or a song or a photograph that seems so vivid and fresh is suddenly twenty years away; maybe thirty; maybe more. In that moment of truth not too far away, a lifetime may not seem all that long. What will you have to show for it? Make it more than just a handful of rare moments.
“Every moment of light and dark is a miracle.” –Walt Whitman
