Snow Covered Mountains

Sking is like breathing - you don't think, you simply move. Like part of the slope, part of the snow, you let yourself become caught in the motion of the moment - letting go of thought and hesitation.
I spent yesterday on the moutains of Telluride. I felt incredible! Totally alive and vibrant. The speed and the cold have their way with you, and you can't help but smile about being alive! :) Riding the lift up, up, up - into the clouds - like a soul entering heaven - there is absolute quite, absolute, dangerous serenity. Surrounded by unparalled beauty, we climb higher and higher until it feels we have reached the absolute top of the world. The snow falling thick, so thick that you can't see the mountains that surround you, all you see is white. I ski to the edge of the run, slide to a stop, and listen to myself breathe... in out, in out.. the rythm of being alive. Other skiers swoosh by like ghosts streaking through a foggy night. I head off down the slope; slow at first then faster.. faster, all I can see is the 10 ft in front of me, and the incredible white of the falling snow. The mountainside stretches downward in a dizzy decent of powder and ice - I am consumed by cold, and the sound of my skis against the snow. Life blurs, my surroundings blur, all that matters fades as my heart thumps in my chest.
I make it down.
Life is good.