At Winter's Threshold....

Is Autumn's release.

The Pumpkin and the Balloon Dancer.

I once had this story that was developed around two characters and their meaning to life. The first was a balloon dancer.... this character was brought from erratic air that is pushed through a powered fan, thus giving him life and motion. He stood out front of establishments so that everyone could see him dance. Flailing his arms and head about, he brought in people from all over to look at what was going on. He was there for show. He lived to never know when he would die. The other character was a pumpkin. The pumpkin was brought from the Earth. He also stood out front, but it was usually of a quaint home... and he never danced. He simply looked on at all the people and animals and happenings that were happening around him. After time of quietly observing he would melt into the Earth and give himself back. He lived to know that he would eventually die.

You can ponder more in a pumpkin patch than you can at a car wash. I suppose. Life is beautiful.

Note to Self......

Never forget that you can always be a child again.

Following the Past.

I have been revisiting an old story. A few years ago I went to Peru to find some excitement and diversity. It was the first time that I had actually been out of the country without a place to go. Living out of a backpack with a friend we got into some trouble. I was bitten by a mangy dog in a city the internet dubbed as having the highest percentage of rabies cases. Puno: Rabies Capital of the World. My travels turned into a quest for a western medical practice taking me through some interesting predicaments.

My friend Josh Dion asked me if I would like to link this story to an illustrated documentary. I said yes, as Josh is amazing in film as a communicative medium. He put together a team to create this and I am following my past as inspiration.

Winter Rye.

I have been feeling the breezes get colder for sometime now. The daylight dwindles away and seems to just drop off the planet here in Portland as winter approaches. The leaves are falling. The leaves have fallen. This is my favorite time to skateboard. I don't do tricks, and I don't go to parks. A sloped sidewalk layered in colored leaves is all I need. A good slash through something like this can put a happy end to the worst day.

In the past the coming of snowfall has always made me run to a new place. In the past I would find a home at the base of a mountain to climb it continually throughout the duration of winter. First was hood, then Tahoe and it's peaks, Mammoth mountain, June, Big Sky, and Baker. This year I am in the Willamette Valley. It doesn't sound too steep. I don't have a car; I have a bike. I don't have a pass; I have a splitboard. I am in class for nine hours, two days a week. I work the other five days. I have seriously made a life change, yet ever so increasingly try to add my old lifestyle within this one. No longer are the years of 300+ riding days, multiple boards and pieces of clothing, hook-ups from reps and friends.

I am living the life that our society wants us to. Yet, I will always find a way to make an ascent for a good time. I looked at the NOAA forecast today. 43.5 lat., 123.4 long. They have snow posted in feet; 1' to 3' it says. As some people's knee starts to hurt when it is going to rain, I always get sick after a snowstorm.