Inspiration

Whenever I’m biking or hiking the Rockies, my mind opens wide, flooding with images, scenes, dialogue, and ideas which I was never taught. Something about that big sky, and moose and deer and big horned sheep, all the creatures who belong. I realize that I’m an outsider, an observer connected only by my mad desire to be a part of it all. My movements among the mountains more prayer than journey. And I begin to look at us, our entire existence, and I imagine another way, and I write. I love the mountains, their absolute intransigence. They seem to be saying that they were here when the dinosaurs came, and then watched them leave. Now, they watch us…