I had a cool experience this morning that made me feel like I have turned a corner. I have been loving the smell of the snow when I first go out in the morning and it reminds me so much of my days at Killington. I realized something....I can taste my life again! For so long down here I was working and worrying and rushing. I realized something might be wrong because it occurred to me that I could not "taste my life". That is to say, I could taste food, smell air, feel warmth of the sun, see the lovely things, but they did not thrill me as they should. I was not excited about anything...I spent all my time solving problems and being serious. I could not think of anything that I wanted. I could not remember a time when I was really happy! Wow! Seriously...I was out in the middle of a lovely lake in a kayak and I challenged myself to think of one time when I was really happy and I could not. This was about 5 years ago. All I wanted was relief. I could not sleep well. I could not remember who it was that I was supposed to be. And guess what? I think I can remember now...the ghost of a distant memory came to me in the smell of the snow. I was amazed. This has been happening in the middle of the "great recession" and also at a time when things have been tense between me and Laura. But none the less...I feel ok! Who knows, maybe it is just a coincidence, but I like to think that it is because I have been observing my thoughts and feelings, forcing myself not to work much, and focusing on my daily life...eating right, practicing good sleep habits, moderating the exersize. I think the key is that it is all alot easier to deal with when my basic needs are met...not just emotional but biochemical...sleep, nutrition, stress factors.

Laura went to work and I had the strange feeling of being the housewife left at home after every one else has gone to work or school for the day. Strangely quiet, just me and the dogs. And we all chased each other around and around the living room table madly for 10 minutes for no reason. And I had the feeling I used to have when I was a kid at home in the morning, didn't have to go to school and it was just me and Mom for the day...how lovely....everything is good! And why shouldn't our whole life be that way....emotionally anyway. Perhaps we still must deal with our struggles and be rushed a little or distracted, but why can't we still keep a little place in our head at all times where we feel as if it is just me and mom for the day. A place where we know that it will be ok no matter what happens and these are the good old days and mom is drinking coffee at the kitchen table and one of her friends or the mailman stops by for a few minutes. I think this is what I mean when I ask: "When do I get to live like everyone else every day and just feel good. At what point do I get to stop preparing and start doing the cool stuff?" We worry so much about how to have our cake and eat it too so that we can avoid having to choose. How about just letting go so that we can have what we have!

Thinking about this made me feel good, I hope it has a similar effect on you.

Expect something extraordinary. Witness the day in a new place. Let the seal and the seagull be your spirit guide. Will you come be a part of something remarkable? Come to the place where we can be alone together. Hold hands in the place of your childhood. Join the sturdilies of the beach in story. Sit and let memories recall themselves to you. See all the rocks that you recognize. Let the smell of the wood smoke remind you. Notice how food always tastes better on the beach. Think of the ocean, the sand, the wind as your ocean, your sand, your wind. Start to relax in the warmth of your sun. Become aware of something that you did not notice before. Let pleasant sensations of wonder and beauty flood your waking dream. Imagine a shy hobbit darting and hiding among the low tide rocks. A mermaid might slip between the waves, a wood nymph peeks over the bluff for a second. Listen to the great rocks whisper as you pass. Return slowly to the place where you belong.

We are always starting, making a fresh start, so that our whole life is starting, never finishing until we come to the end and realize this. I think we must at some point come to the middle and feeling it repulsive, turn back to the start, never turning forward again, and so end as a child.

Try this: take a deep breath. Retain it as long as possible. Notice carefully everything after that point. Tonight when you brush your teeth, review what you observed. After you brush your teeth but before you rinse, lift your hand and brush them very carefully again with a toothbrush that is imaginary. Now pick up the glass,turn on the faucet and watch it slowly fill with cool, clear water. Drink as much as you want, until all your thirst is gone. Notice the difference this makes.

Running: Gust of wind lifts me up and shoves my whole body from behind. Legs going as fast as they can, now cover more length with each stride. Feet struggle to find ground to push on. I touch down and coast to a safe landing. My big friend the wind disappears ahead of me.

Swimming: my big friend the ocean lifts me up. Laughing, gasping for air, I tumble. I get spit out on the sand. Laughing too, he rises up and falls onto me again.

Sleeping, I surf the darkness on my bed all night. Waking, it all comes back to me. I step off my board to swim in my big friend the day.

Today at the parking lot....windy:

Suddenly, a confusing black thing at the tree tops, too fast to see. Tumbling, blown sideways and down by the wind. Black mass of feathers, stumbles, falls dangerously, and quickly flies back up and away.

As I watch it fly away, I see it all again in my mind. Tumbling through the air sideways. I see it now, a crow, now stopped and falling, upside down, changing shapes. Reaching, arching to see, flaying at the air. I see its eye for a second, its urgent expression. And in an instant curling to a ball until it faces the wind, now opening muscular feather arms. Finally safe, flying, it looks like a bird again and joins the crow I am watching fly away. Standing there, I don't know what to do next.

Just a few seconds that I relive again and again.

Monday. The best thing that happened today was yesterday. I spent the whole day there. This morning was so bright I had to put on sunglasses to work at my desk. The afternoon went on forever.

Sunday was sunny too. Long aimless afternoon bike ride. I stopped to talk to a midwest trucker unloading cars for a dealership. I felt good there on the side of the road. Lonely thing to be doing on a Sunday, far from home, us both. I asked how is the country? Looked at me for a second, thinking. Said, "People needing someone to talk to. People feeling bad." I rode around looking in the yards of a thousand houses. I had a donut and a glass of water from McDonalds. Sitting on the curb in the winter sun, eating. I felt good.

I went back there so often in my mind today that I decided to go there again on my bike too. I had fries this time. I felt good again as I watched traffic. Tomorrow supposed to be sunny too.

Today I saw some birds, not small, up higher than average, in a grey sky, windy. I have been up there. Just floating at first to watch. Then to chance a try with them, to feel what it is like to do that and to try to fit in unnoticed as one. I think it is something anyone can do.

Once a year in late summer some large white birds come to some dead trees in a swamp by my road. People gather. The people and the birds watch each other, each perched quietly together with their kind.

Their cry is not the song you might expect of a large white bird. I think of it the sound a human might make when trying to squawk.

When these white birds fly it is not the graceful soaring you might expect of a large white bird. It looks more like a newspaper being blown among the tops of the skyscrapers of windy city. Tumbling, folding and spreading, floating down and then borne high up suddenly by a draft.

There are, of course, also near me the common small birds that zip suicidally through the briar's. One can see how a large bird can float, borne up by large buoyant wings, rowing the sky. But these little birds, fat with little wings that hardly seem to do a thing for them, they are too fast for my eye and I can't see how they stay up.

These small birds can hide from the wind storm. What can the large birds who cannot fit in a nook do? Take their chances in the air instead. And being in it, feel it's air still as the eye of a cyclone and instead watch the earth turn safely beneath. And when it stops turning, come down in a place different of smell, appearance and sound, lacking the foods they require. Sea birds blown far inland. Or worse, land birds blown far out to sea.

What must it be like? Words perhaps being insufficient, nature favors them and us with song.