Day 314

today was my last ski competition. duties as starter included standing with clipboard and radio and communicating with judges down below and announcing and sending respective skiers down for their run. age...name... 3..2..1.. dropping... this volunteer events gig has not only been fun but i think i've learned some skills that might hopefully be usable in the future. but that's kind of boring to say. here's something more interesting.


you'd think that a regular guy who decides to live in a secluded cabin for a wisconsin winter would sit around and play dashboard songs or read jack london. you'd especially expect this if this guy had gone through a painful breakup with both a girlfriend and band. i expected something altogether emo.

but that's not what i found in an album by a guy named justin vernon. he goes by the name 'bon iver', a term customized from the french words for 'good winter' heard in a northern exposure series he'd brought along with some boys choir cd to accompany his cold and wooden solitude.

i like most the fact that he doesn't seem try too hard. people who try too hard make me really uncomfortable, especially musicians who think that they're awesome at playing three chord progressions. this justin guy had some time and instruments and basic recording gear. maturing purpose developed into the creation of a record. typical, right? that's another reason i expected something altogether emo but even that's not really what came of it.

somber. howling. chorusy harmonies. sincere. and all the while the overall vibe nestles somewhere in the balance of circumstance and flow.

check out bon iver here.

Day 219

the town of fernie is divided by a highway that, in itself, connects two parallel highways. this perpendicular cut, made possible by the elk river valley, also serves as the passageway for dozens of coal trains.

on any given night, especially crisp, sub-zero ones like today, a faint echoing train whistle can be heard on either of the far sides of the valley. never both at once however. that result would be far too exciting for everyone.

our house, next to this highway and in the very middle of the town, is a straight shot of five or six blocks from the tracks. i particularly hear the train coming around the bend after early nightfalls of occasional restlessness. once the initial warning blast is sent, i know that i have just enough time, if i so desire, to make a brisk walk towards the tracks in order to approach the final block by the time the first dark and raging car comes storming between the two, last brick buildings.

the beast moves swiftly and yet glides surprisingly quietly across the narrow path on the snow. however, the weight and heavy momentum does not go unnoticed- especially if i can make it to the last building. sometimes i lean against the streetlight pole or put my back against the brick. the ground trembles and i imagine a derailing and subsequent swinging and smashing of steel and wheels and then the destiny of any unfortunate thing that might have been sleeping near or, better yet, previously admiring the raw energy that had now spread as strong as a hurricane.

one. two.. three... four.... the longest i've counted was one hundred and forty total pieces. through the valley, across shadows, and past houses, this linked army marches without any recognition to any shivering observer. grey and neutral. mighty and serious. another night, another town.

Day 215

it's been good to talk with a visiting friend from the summer at camp and to reflect.

i got a message today in a belated birthday card that quoted a proverbs verse. ''trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledging him and he will make your paths straight.''

it seems that i'd always gleaned the first part about how i couldn't handle all these human decisions and that God was trustworthy enough to make me aware enough to want to repeat sincere prayers for direction and peace and purpose in the current state of life. still i'd feel that i'd be left hoping that one undetermined day, tomorrow would be vaulted ahead in a dozen, quick rotations and a sticky today would finally be put deep in the fading stack of yesterdays. like rolling to land on a shoot. a ladder. a lotto ticket. a brand new relationship.

then i wonder about, in this petition and waiting, how the question of 'bad things happening to good people' is the first, fiery front for people who feel short-changed or betrayed in tragedy or turbulence. maybe karma is the catcall of a false start- almost like people started to try to make decisions for themselves on how they were meant to be treated. God even says that he doesn't take pleasure in the death of the wicked. then ezekiel 18:25 "yet you say, 'the way of the Lord is not right.' hear now, o house of israel! is my way not right? is it not your ways that are not right?"

ways.

its in the second part of the proverbs verse too.

ways.

i'm persuaded by the instructions of trust and faith and acknowledgment. i'm here today because of God's provisions and preparations. not plans. and it has been very good.

and i'm convinced and inspired that maybe life isn't supposed to be all planned out. how can so many accept and expect the same blueprint.

i don't think i've ever been as ready and willing to let these paths continue to be straightened. i don't feel like i'm holding a magnifying glass to my feet anymore.

tim and i were talking about the pressures of relationships last week and i remember wondering if its just not easier to stop looking for the final, conclusive piece of the puzzle as if it was going to be revealed as one big answer for the previous million little building blocks that were natural and part of the journey. no decision or change is really made in one piece.

all these little ways. acknowledging. straightened paths. i hope i'm thinking clearly because i was looking and thinking for something more than just noting some of the day's happenings.

they were good too, however. today had the biggest snowfall yet. i think it's even safe to call it the first permanent snow because the main streets are still covered in white and the streetlights outside the big kitchen window have been hanging their head over a constant flow beneath their auras for many hours.

church did an outdoor, christmas music concert in the streets downtown tonight and i was asked to do video. i put a rain shield on the camera. wanderers stopped and huddled next to the tea house to hear the live music and snow and wind and music filled the streets. the soft, reflecting light was good and i'm looking forward to editing the footage.

tomorrow is a big day. the hill officially- and finally- opens. multiple groups of out-of-town friends are here for the weekend. our band's first, big show is at night. here we go.

Day 205

today. snow. finally.

the first significant snowfall of the season started this morning. this continued until most everything was covered in a moderate cover of white although the main streets have since regained their normal colors. people are concerned with the slow coming of the season but continue to assure that good times are ahead.

icy side streets played tricks with a shivering, stiff gait as i walked from janitoring at church to chill at mug shots this afternoon. the white and black striped beanie pressed curled and stiff locks of hair against my upper eyelids like a climber's grip on a cold, rock face. a quick, lazy gesture might pin back the wild tales for a moment but never accomplished enough to hold them before the next icy blast came sweeping down the whitened mountains and over the sidewalks and buildings, pinching and whispering numbness in my eyes.

the coffee shop and friends inside are the regular place to spend the few remaining unemployed days with this new collection of books.

also, while jamming together around the house, i admit that this accordion is one of the greatest investments i've made.

it's really cool too that people often stop by and come in the house throughout the day. we had some good chills today and might be taking on an extra roommate.


i heard once that if you do something for about twenty days straight, it will be come a habit. hmm. times ten. this blog deal seems all kinda crazy to me sometimes.

Day 184

there's enough snow in my beard to make a small snowman.

another day's work finishing the 'jackhammer and busting up the concrete around a resort hot tub' project has stunned my face's movement ability. this happened to be the same hot tub that our hotel manager friend gave us access to a few weeks back. it snowed for most of the day while we worked on the mountain.

it's been good to work these two full days. i'm going to buy a piece of meat tomorrow night and cook it into a steak to celebrate. this also to just narrowly avoid having rice and beans for three straight nights.


in respect to the retro, i've found some old material. like high school old. it didn't win a prize in the senior year poetry contest, but it won me. then and now.


the highway

the highway was filling with eager heads,
all excited that this was their time,
everyone thinking the road wouldn't end,
the pathway to making a bigger dime.

looking ahead as they cruise along,
faith in each other has left no doubt.
groups spring up, composing and singing songs.
closed eyes, lifted heads, ignore other routes.

from the entry ramp, he views their road.
he watches their pace with sparkling eye.
not vain was the depart from his abode,
thinks of life and looks to the open sky.

desire to find what can't be bought,
instead joining the trip that's re-run,
he gives them his back and his eyes grow taut,
arms crossed, head now facing the setting sun.

going west he nods his head.
gas tank full and day quickly fading
the car he drives is now his bed
with new marvels to see, the world is waiting.

foolish, no. he took the chance,
ready to begin a longer ride.
leaving behind the train of ants.
"i can always get on from the other side."