Several years ago I exercised my independence by cooking a frequent flyer ticket that was about to expire and flying out to Big Mountain Ski Resort in northwestern Montana… by myself.
I have many memorable experiences from that endeavor. One of which was observing the practice runs of the US Women’s Ski Team slice down the giant slalom course, with their slick, skin tight speed suits and sensuous forms, taming the monster named gravity. Watching in amazement as skis twice as long as mine would chatter over the glazed ice, and then as if drifting into flight, launching off mounds in the course, temporarily divorcing their shadows in silence. Then slowly reuniting again as they touch back down to sound of metal edges grasping desperately for purchase.
Another was the 2 sentence, 45 minute conversation I had with the shuttle driver that brought me from the airport to the mountain. As we crept up the serpentine road higher and higher into night air as cold as space and never ending darkness.
He was a off season carpenter who first asked me if I really was from Michigan. To which I replied “Yep”. Then he said “I hear you guys actually burn oak in your fireplaces… is that true”? I sounded like a strange question a first, until I realized after staring out the window for the duration of the ride, at the million acres of 100′ conifers.
On occasion I drift off again and go back to that 3 day dream binge. Skiing all alone, drinking in the Hellroaring Saloon, listing the to tumultuous uproar of the ski team that shared the hotel I was in as I tried to sleep. I have always dreamed of having a Montana mailing address, along with many other dreams.
Some dream of endless wealth, some dream of power… some dream of buring oak in a fireplace.
This weekend a mentor of mine said something that now seems to help when the frustration of dreams being ever elusive becomes overwhelming… “may the quest for more be put to rest when on the journey we discover the meaning of enough”.