I headed north into Maine, my one time home, for some fresh powder, fresh tracks, and fresh air in the free space - to just be. Nowhere to go, no cell service, no deadlines, nothing owed to anyone, no multi tasking. Just me; how amazing that sometimes solitude can be freedom and joy. For all that I love the wisdom that is drawn magnetically to Boston, it is easy to start drawing shallow breaths and hunch your shoulders, under the burden of bags, deadlines and expectations, in the city.
Only once I am in the mountains, arms raised in the victory V, laughing like a fool, lungs expanded beyond bursting with breath, which tastes like water to a man out of the desert, do I realize I was only half full of breath - not my full self.
It is a constant battle to remember to live fully in the city, the life of the mind and of the body. Not just the body in the time allotted to the gym, but in the body as it really truly is, as a part of Nature, something beyond us. But I don’t mind too much as the joy of rediscovering my full self, which I cannot put off for long without going mad, is so wildly beautiful. Someday perhaps I will be wholly balanced always, but for now I journey and enjoy.