Shut your eyes...

It was about the time I moved back to Colorado I first noticed, or rather really listened to this song... and kind of ironic that I did at that time. I had bought the album some time ago, and finally took the time to listen to the whole thing... not just the song that the radio deemed important enough to play... or however all that works. But this day while driving up the tight turns on Loveland Pass this song suddenly jumped out and grabbed me. I had taken a liking to the song melodically some time ago, but suddenly words created a shiver up my spine and goose bumps ran down my arms to the steering wheel.

“Shut your eyes and think of somewhere, Some where cold and caked in snow…” “And when the worrying starts to hurt and the world feels like graves of dirt Just close your eyes until you can imagine this place, yeah, our secret space at will” Shut your eyes, by Snow Patrol

I’ve always needed my place to get away from it all. In GA had my favorite spot where two trees had fallen across a river and formed the perfect get-a-way above the running water. The cottage, being way out in the country another great escape from modern day life. And here… in the Colorado high country sitting at the top of a mountain you just climbed is more freeing from modern day woes than anything I’ve ever felt. You realize how small we are when sitting on one of these granite giants, and suddenly you begin to appreciate everything around you a little more. Stock markets will tumble… gas prices fluctuate… big companies start to fall… and election campaigns finally come to and end. But the mountains are always here…

Go west young man...

Some would say I’m crazy, but the adventurous side of me did it anyway. In April I had the goal of interviewing for a job or two, seeing family and friends, and also reconnecting with the city that raised me through my adolescence. As I hate the idea of “puppy jails” and asking friends to watch my two could always lead to trouble (and the possible loss of a friendship) I decided to embark cross-country and take the pups with me. So I packed the car and headed out on my journey. A journey from Atlanta to Denver that has yet to feel settled to this day, as I still feel I’m trying to find my place here. Kind of ironic since this is where I grew up!

So anyway… two days prior to leaving I had to have all four wisdom teeth extracted, so not much of my mind took in the sights on the way out to Denver but was more centered on the pain and getting to my first night’s destination pop a percocet. A brief stop over in St Louis to see Mike and Kevin was too brief and I headed out first thing the next morning to get to my ultimate destination. Having heard the joys of traveling through west Kansas I had prepared myself with purchasing a few books on cd. I like variety in life so I had a broad selection of books to listen to. “Marley and Me” seemed to do the trick (Earnest Hemingway’s Short Stories were starting to put me to sleep)... although I had not been warned of the ending. Tears ran down my face as I heard the author and narrator tell of his beloved labs last days as I passed by the “Welcome to Colorful Colorado sign.” Suddenly I felt like I was home again, and in some strange way felt a new appreciation for the lab of my own curled up in the back seat with his ‘sister’ Cloe, my Weimeraner.

Soon mountains came into view and I knew that a new chapter of my life was about to begin.

Catching up...

I know I have neglected this blog for a while. Sorry guys... but the move... trying to get a job off the ground and running... launching a new website (that I had to learn most of myself)... and well making up for lost time in the Colorado Mtns has kept me busy the last several months. But the snow has started to fall and now I'll try to get you caught up!

REALITY (May 08 08)

It’s been in the back of my mind for years now… but always seemed like more of a faint dream than anything else. But here I am… on a plane… watching the midtown skyscrapers of Atlanta fade off in the night sky. Just a day ago a long awaited call was received. "Can you be here by Friday?" There was a slight hesitation in my mind… very slight. The rest of me said you can do this… you have the resources… and it will happen. After all it’s all about making this distant dream of moving home a reality. Jumping on a plane and heading across country is just not the sort of thing I do… at least not since Tadg and Cloe. But friends are always there when you need them the most right? Paula was a quick call away and today even reachable (another story to tell another day... but that's what happens when your best friend is a Delta flight attendant.) But over the nine or so years we have known each other… she always comes through when I need her the most.

So much has been going thru my mind the last several weeks since deciding to move back to Denver. How do I land a job, what kind of offer will I get… what about housing… how do I get the dogs and my wine collection across country (you see where my priorities lie)… when do I tell Grandma… am I doing the right thing!!! But I always tell people that they need to do what their heart says to… do the things in life that make you happy. So why is there still sadness in some of the corners of my mind??

I guess one still out weighs the other, but you can’t help think about things… especially when reality is starting to set in. Ten years is a long time… and here I am at 34, picking up everything and moving across country. Fifteen hundred miles seems far enough, but when you compare Atlanta and Denver, Georgia and Colorado… everything they are, everything they stand for… makes them seem even further apart. From a concrete jungle with the pace that would make most peoples head spin, to the laid back culture of Denver where purple mountain majesties dominate your everyday look on life.

But as I am sitting here in first class... had my glass of wine before we even took off... everything again just feels right.

Spring in the Colorado Rockies

A sight for sore eyes... I woke up this morning to a crisp white blanket of purity across the metro area. Having been in Atlanta for ten years now, aside from this years crazy winter season, snow has been a distant memory more than anything else. I'm sure next winter I'll probably be cursing the stuff, but for now it's a welcome old friend... one of many these days I've been reacquainting myself with.
There's just been something different about this visit... mainly I think because it's more than just that. Last weekend was a journey along the "long and winding road" out of the deep south and back to a familiar place... back to the place that has always been considered home... and in some ways back to myself. Of course the mountains are unmistakable... they've changed so little in my absence. But Denver has grown up in so many ways, and so much from my childhood is dwindling. Houses I knew as a kid are smaller....streets are narrower... and the old shopping malls are vacated and ready for dismantling. Every turn around another corner... every glance out the corner of of my mind jogs a memory of growing up here. I guess though Denver and I while apart all these years have grown together.

I've driven around the city the last few days in awe of the majestic purple mountain majesties to the west. And in this relatively short time my mindset has completely changed...almost like re adapting to what is was meant to be... like being reset to the "factory settings" that Atlanta over the years has reprogrammed. In Atlanta traffic ( much like the people), aside from its congestion is always in a hurry. Here no one is in that same frantic rush, almost as if those mountains send you into some mesmerized state of consciousness. And with the wide open brilliant blue skies its like an infant seeing the world for the first time. Its nice to be back in a laid back setting that compliments who I am, rather than having the world around me rush at mach III speed. If only I didn't have to go home and pack.

Two days ago I sat in the Cheeseman Park. I don't ever really remember this park growing up but the guy from the hammock walked me down there and we talked and enjoyed the downtown skyline to the right... snow capped peaks to the left... and watched residents flying kites and throwing a football in the grassy meadow.

Today I got up and took the dogs outside to play in the snow.

Puppies first real snow. I think they are more suited for a life in Colorado as well!

moments....

Sometimes it’s easy to get lost in the world. Sometimes we forget what it is that truly makes us tick. And sometimes it just takes one little thing to make our eyes open again and see the world in the light we know it should be seen in.

Life is good at sweeping us up and taking us for a ride, and we seldom stop to look not at where we’ve been, but where we are going. For the fortunate… one day something happens, or someone comes into your life, that makes the light above your head shine once again. Though not as bright as the light over New Mexico, that light shines on ahead, and clears the path we truly wish to follow. And the simplicity of sharing a cup of coffee while looking over pictures on an iphone set to your favorite tunes… a long conversation in a parked car late at night… or how an early spring afternoon swaying in a hammock with shadows dancing across your face can unravel the complexity of a city where people become zombies of the corporate giant.

It’s amazing how one small thing can make such a huge impact in your life. It’s amazing how one week can show you the way. It’s amazing how one person can remind you of all you wish to be to not only yourself, but show you everything you’ve ever truly wanted in another.

There’s a place where buffalo roam… where the air is crisp, clean and innocent. Where purple mountain majesties have been sung about… and where even the truly unsinkable have found them selves. There’s a place where the skies are as big as a child seeing the world for the first time… where the landscape is so majestic that you can’t help but stare in awe. There’s a place where you see yourself in the arms of that loved one… balanced in a hammock… wading in mountain streams… gliding through canyons… or simply next to you when you first awake on Sunday morning.

Fredericksburg, VA

At the first of the year I escaped the social jungle of Atlanta to visit some relatives in Virginia… historic Fredericksburg to be exact. My aunt and uncle reside in a historic old colonial row home built in 1727, stately in its presence and alive with a brightly colored door. Even as my uncle, an architect, puts his contemporary yet respectful mark on this town, the history of the area is apparent in every inch you walk… every sight you see… every moment you take in. Hand carved floor joists support the floor in a gallery we visited one night, and the owner of an antique store on Caroline Street still holds “court” in front of a roaring fireplace amongst his colleagues. The various staircases in one boutique wine shop were reminiscent of an Escher drawing… staircases and alleys come and go from every direction in this town. Each step its own journey, it was like walking in a historic Manhattan… coffee shops, restaurants, and shoe stores all just a brick away. I often spotted a somewhat tattered and scruffy man who walked the streets everyday in his leather shoes, wool hat and trench coat. His presence was not only here and now, but had a feeling of a restless civil war soul still walking the streets as if he was on a search for something. Even though it’s now 2008 the roaring rumble of trains and clapping of Clydesdales down the city streets was enough to take a trip through time.