The routes we choose - the arbitrary numbers and convoluted squiggles we continually add to our collective maps... A personal polygraph whose tracings speak our played out passions and our lived for dreams.
Our paths find bridges and crossroads, transcend borders. Through deserts and over mountain passes - the endless crossed contours become the topography of our souls.
Weave a balance with flow, for when driver becomes passenger and passenger driver.
And when the road becomes the driver our lines and histories blur...
Some views to vicariously offer from the last week... A fair bit of time above 12,000 feet... Rain, grapple, hail, thunder and lightning nearly every day. Incredibly dynamic environment - the Rockies and the Divide are a powerful place. Elk, fox, weasel, moose, deer, ravens and butterflies along the way... Good company. I am fortunate.
Conundrum : A logical postulation that evades resolution...
Rain, slipping mud, rattling booms of thunder...
Up deeply carved mountain valleys,
To splash through ephemeral cascades, above the shake of aspen.
Rhythm of shared footfalls, beneath the weight of loaded packs and ache of muscles.
Following trails to a collective unburdening.