snow, two ways

I grew up with these mountains. I love these mountains. Every morning, I check in with these  mountains. When life doesn’t make sense, these mountains calm me. When nothing good seems to last, these mountains remind me that nothing could be farther from the truth. There are good things that last. Because they last.

I especially love the winter, when they are covered with snow. The sun setting behind them, there is no more serene sight. Right now there’s just this little cap of snow left, that little spot of white, and each morning it grows smaller. It makes me a little sad, but not too sad. Because I know the snow will be back next winter. And the next winter after that. Something I can count on.

Speaking of something I can count on, there’s Picard. He who has given me family, by being loyal. He has given  me a sense of purpose, by inspiring me to become an Animal Assisted Therapy (AAT) volunteer team. He’s got a little “snow” going on too, just like my mountain top. His snow is in his muzzle. And while the snow on the mountain diminishes a little each day, Picard’s muzzle grows increasingly, permanently, whiter. His life, like our own, is linear, not seasonal. And I think about this so much; about the passage of time, and life, and All Things Must Pass and This Too Shall Pass. And the realizations that I’d give anything to slow it down. Not go back; just slow it down, just a little.

These mountains have been pulling me, a lot these days. The urge to go sit atop one in silence, and just observe, is a strong one. Maybe that will slow it down.

I’m not Bill. I don’t have a lot of money, like Bill, and I’m certainly not thin, like Bill. So why compare?

This is Diane.

Diane was just woken up by a horrible dream, where her beloved dog Boris, a beagle/pitbull mix, disappeared in a big park with lots of hills and lots of other dogs and people after Diane had let him off the leash.

(Diane does not have a dog named Boris, though in her childhood, she did have beagle named Bella.)

Anyhow, Diane feels just awful about her dream dog running off… but then wonders: maybe Boris wasn’t happy. Maybe Boris needed new experiences. Maybe Boris wasn’t living the life he was meant to be living.

Which made Diane think, “Maybe I’m Boris.”

Diane worries every day that she is not living the life she was meant to be living, that her greatest gifts are going untapped. And that’s a shame. Diane know she was blessed with some pretty terrific gifts.

Diane is concerned at how fast time is going, and that the changes that need to be made — only she can make them. But she has a difficult time seeing clearly what is the best change to make first.

Diane sees friends share happy photos of their families or their creative accomplishments on Social Media and wonders, “How did I get to where I am now, so far from where I ever wanted to be?”

But then Diane remember it’s only Social Media, where, like in dreams, things are only sort of as they appear.

Like this photo of Diane. It’s her, but it was taken a very long time ago. Same eyes, same brain, same spirit… but a lot has changed since the taking of this picture.

Diane pours herself some coffee. She would love nothing more than to remain right here, and explore these thoughts, and hope for some clarity and insight into where Boris — or rather, Diane — would like to run to, if she were let off the leash that tethers her to current obligations and fears.

But she can’t, for it is time to walk her real dog, Picard, and read a chapter for school before leaving for her corporate job.

Be like Diane. Or don’t be like Diane. It’s your choice. You could do better, you could do worse.

Sometimes, it’s what you don’t see.

Behind me is a group of men, big Harley/trucker-looking men, gathered around a picnic table, as they are every Thursday morning. I thought it was a work meeting. Right now, they are praying. So I suspect it’s a different sort of meeting. And it makes me happy, that they have this community. Community is good. I’m between communities right now, except of course for my online community. But it’s really not the same, is it?

I didn’t photograph these men, out of respect for their anonymity and dignity, and because it’s not necessary. Sometimes it’s better to let your mind fill in the blanks for you; to put yourself in the picture.