“From the other direction she was calling my eye, it could
be an illusion, but I might as well try,”
“Once in a while you get shown the light in the strangest of
places, if you look at right.”
Scarlet Begonias, The Dead
A hint of autumn is in the morning air, in the bushes and trees
as they change to yellow and red, and in my heart as I prepare for my annual
pilgrimage to Yosemite Valley, California.
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| El Capitan on the left, and Bridalveil Falls on the right. |
Today is September 11th, a date which meaning needs no
explanation, one that changed our country and the world forever. It is an ideal
date for reflection, though my reflection is no doubt lighter than a lot of
peoples who lost loved ones in the terrible terrorist attacks that day in 2001.
My reflection leans toward summer days. I had an uplifting
summer, an engaged one where I lived out some dreams. My summer dreams were
lived out in the form of dancing and failing on rock, floating down our mostly,
mellow river that winds through our rocky mountain town, and the soft touch of
another human that we all need and desire. (The manual labor and various odd jobs I did to have the time for my dreams is another story.)
Any dream needs another person to help us achieve it, at
least my dreams. I dream to climb El Capitan in Yosemite, but
would never even dare try this on my own, some might, but my nature is social
and not solitary, though the nature of a writer is solitary. My dreams of rock
climbing are ones where I hope to transcend. The world of climbing is one where
we can fool ourselves that the world is perfect, and our only purpose in life
is to get to that next pitch, the next ledge, perch. Life is measured in feet,
and the problems of the world fall away from the consciousness. Life is
vertical, not horizontal. By balancing up a rock face immortality and limits
are felt, but at the same time we reach higher in the ceiling of limits.
I’ve always dreamed of climbing higher and harder since the
birth of my passion for rock climbing. When the ego gets in the way this dream
can seem superficial, when the ego is channeled and quieted, the dreams seems
more pure, leading to a great connection with the outdoor world, which is, in
reality, the only world we are a part of. When you die you’re going to the
spirit in the sky.
I’ve always dreamed of women, and I am incomplete without
the presence of one. To touch a woman is to access nature, spirit and sex in
one beautiful moment. I only hope to stretch these moments together, to find
one that is as right for me as I am for her. In this search, experimentation,
patience and a willingness to leave my comfort zone is essential. I feel as
delicate as a woman during my search. I wonder if all men are as sensitive as I
am, or if I am merely more in touch with this side? Touch, breathing, kissing,
loving, transcending into the warm, summer night. Loving is the ultimate
timeless act, that remains so similar today as it was a million years ago.
There’s no app to make it better, no technology to use to enhance it. I am
naked to my essence to please her, as she is to me. And in this state of
vulnerability I can either feel unsatisfied and frustrated, or complete and
validated for all these days of living. Summer days, lead to summer nights,
then to changing leaves, cooling night, a desire for home, a desire to have
someone to cuddle up next to, to keep warm with for the colder days ahead.
Intimate moments, whether in nature, or with the true nature
that is sexuality, reveal truths. I’m always surprised to learn my truths,
because I also believe it is our nature to fool ourselves and believe we are
something more than what we are. I sometimes believe I am this evolved person,
when in reality I am just a child in the grand and strange universe that I
inhabit. Wanting to love and be loved, and discover and rediscover what I love.
