Riding the snow at night (my blog from a past life)
Cruising my snowbound fields of memories
This precious memory is for all my snowbound family and friends. I know you will relate because you felt it as well,
Exploring my happy… riding the snow at night.
Talking, well writing, I sometimes write down what I’m verbally discussing inside my head, okay sometimes I say it out loud as well, now where was I? My last blog about ships got me thinking about what kind of ride I really like to experience. I know, my mind fairly bursts sometimes with great ideas, right?
My ride is built for comfort, definitely not for speed. Make no mistake though, I can keep up and even pass those that push my limits. I want to enjoy the ride, sucking up the fresh air, feeling the wind rushing up against my layered body then flowing into my past leaving it all behind. This also helps move me along with the aging process, it’s just easier. It is my happy, to feel the ambiance of wherever life takes me. (my Artic Cat snowmobile had it all even heated handlebars)
In a field of snow at night in minus temps, just the stars, myself, and my broken-down snowmobile. You can actually feel the snow sparkle in the moonlight… a spiritual presence of peace on earth, it envelopes me in a warm blanket of pure awe.
A coyote howling nearby invariably shatters that moment and survival mode takes over. I curse like a sailor as if that is going to magically fix my machine and make it start again. (turns out I had hit the ‘kill switch’ going over a bump too fast)
I also curse the group of adolescent men, who think racing through this gorgeous night to be first to the next stop, is so all-important. What is it with machines with motors that turn men into demons on speed?
Sometimes I fall back to the back of the line intentionally, but keeping the pack in sight, alone at night in freezing temps could be dangerous. The stark beauty of the tree-lined trails, newly fallen snow clinging beautifully but precariously to the branches on moon-filled nights.
Majestic pines, in particular, fascinate me, their branches hanging low with their snow-laden burdens. Sometimes I reach out and grab a tip of one while zipping through the natural arch’s underneath. I give it a slight shake, and my heart gives a leap of satisfaction as it releases its load on the unlucky fool behind me. (my way of making them slow down, well that too)
The icy cold wind takes my breath away and fills my soul with such impatience for these racers who never seem to slow down. Occasionally letting the pack go ahead, I will turn off my machine and just be still. When the sounds of their machines die off in the distance, I take stock of all this beauty and just breath.
Eventually, someone does a head count as I see the bobbing lights and hear the familiar whining of the engines returning. I turn my machine back on and catch up to meet them. My excuse is always a pit stop for nature calling and in my own way, it really is.
We need moments like this in our lives to refuel our spirits. How many feel this way? Being alone but the feeling of being a part of something bigger? Water has this effect on me as well swimming in the ocean or floating in the lake on a lazy sunny day.
Maneuvering my car to a stop onto a side road because of an amazing rainbow appearing in the middle of a random impatient rainstorm is not unusual for me. The sun sneaks its way through, unleashing a kaleidoscope of brilliant hues to form an entrance into a magical horizon of new beginnings.
A late-night check outside my cabin at the lake, I catch a glimpse of the northern lights starting a hypnotizing ballet, flitting across a blanket of infinite stars. Settling into my good fortune, I’m spellbound and they never disappoint. I can feel them and inhaling deeply I saturate myself in this magical display… it is my happy place.
This ride called life is the ride of our lives, we needn’t rush through it to get to the end, if we do then we’ve missed the whole point…
dontcha think?
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copyright October 24th, 2016
