Outside / Fresh Air
DISCOVERIES
on the divide
by Christine Kassar
50
vative approach as we break trail through a foot of fresh pow. As always, my first steps are awkward, my breath labored. Inhale. Right pole reaches. Left leg slides forward. Exhale. Pole. Glide. Cold air in. Glide. Warm breath out. Glide. Settling into this rhythm, my mind, heart and soul all follow with ease. Some days I can’t see three feet in front of me. Others, I lose feeling in my toes, fingers, nose or all three. Yet, it is here that I can see and feel more clearly than anywhere. Inhale. Glide. Amid the mountains rising with immense power as they reach to the heavens. Exhale. Glide. Weathering each storm with unwavering grace and beauty. Inhale. Glide. They shine with unending and unmatched light and hope. Exhale. Glide. Effortlessly exuding strength and beauty. Bringing mindful awareness to each moment.
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Photos by Elk Raven Photography
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EEP. BEEP. BEEP. I flail for the snooze. Feeling for my tiny family, I land on fur first. Our yellow lab, Nala, sprawled out in her version of dead bug pose, takes up half the bed. Rubbing her belly, I send my other hand in search of Ryan. Amid a mountain of covers, I trace shoulder, arm, hand. Our fingers entwine; he gives a gentle squeeze. Touching both my loves, I close the circle. From this magical place between yesterday and today, I pause — inhale Ryan’s stinky morning breath (mine isn’t any better), exhale peace.
Inhale even worse puppy breath, exhale gratitude. This moment alone will carry me through whatever the day brings. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. Zen moment broken. 4:30 a.m. Rub the crusty sleep out of my eyes. Crank heater. Kettle on. Peak out window. New snow? Brew coffee. Gently wake my sleepy husband. We savor our hot brew with few words. Put on tunes. Feed Nala. Dress in the exact same clothes as yesterday. Put skins on skis. Load up the car and head up the hill to Monarch, our hometown mountain, anticipating what’s to come like little kids on Christmas. Never knowing what awaits, but certain it will be magic. Upon arrival to the deserted parking lot where huge flakes float to the ground, we are a flurry of activity. Bundle up. Gulp coffee. Packs on. Click into skis. And we are off. Nala runs full speed, weaving and darting with so much excitement to be on the snow again that she can barely contain it. Guided only by the tiny glow of our headlamps, Ryan and I glide next to each other, feeling like Nala, but taking a more conser-
