“I believe that a man
gets closer to God out there in the big, free West,” ~
William F. (Buffalo Bill) Cody.
There’s something both invigorating and spiritual in
sitting on a porch in the warmth of the late afternoon sun, listening to the
gurgle of a creek not 10 yards away. Aside from that creek the only sounds are the wind and the occasional screech of a circling hawk. I’m
alternately reading and glancing up from my book at the red cliffs that
overlook the cabin. Bighorn sheep clamor
on those cliffs. Downstream the green,
yellow and orange leaves on young aspens shiver in the cooling autumn wind. They shine and shimmer like colored
coins.
Wow I guess I
didn’t fully appreciate the quiet until I got back home to the San Francisco
Bay Area and went to my gym a week later.
The noise was like getting whacked in the face with a baseball bat;
clanging steel, grunting and shouting and of course the dreck and cacophony
that the tone deaf call music. Walking in I hunched
over from the sheer weight of the din.
Ante Up! Yap that fool!
Ante Up! Kidnap that fool!
It's the perfect timing, you see the man shining
Get up off them god damn diamonds! Huh!
Ante Up! Yap that fool!
Ante Up! Kidnap that fool!
In the locker room
I got ready for my work out and said to myself in disgust that “I could eat
alphabet soup and shit better lyrics.”
Maybe a little too loud as the guy a few lockers down shot me a look.
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| High mountain valley |
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| Gridlock |
