The shock of the beauty of the landscape of Wyoming is wearing off; it's taken a week, truly, to exist in a world so strikingly different and beautiful. My eyes have been hungrily soaking in the true Eathly colors in the path at all times-- carrot cake red-orange land covered in deep green succulents and brush, with striping white and silver Aspen boughs speckled in shimmering fairy green freshly sprouted leaves.
It has been a consuming activity to just sit outside and look. I've spent hours engaged in this process, camped on my big brother's front and back porches, a cup of tea and untouched notebook and pen beside me.
Some days I ventured out to the Snake River to fish, float, and raft through the rapids. I've hiked up the trails behind Andy's house that lead up the ridge to a viewpoint from which you stand seemingly up in heaven, with a Birdseye view of all of Jackson Hole.
My eyes have become adjusted, and finally my brain has begun the radial process of assigning descriptions and captions, connections and comparisons to all of the wonderful things they have delighted to experience.
It is a tiring business, but one that I am grateful to call my own, this watching and being still and enjoying splendor and miracles present all over. What a gift, to allow yourself to be simply ecstatically delighted by the tiny miracles in this place, stilted and imperfect though it may seem at other times.
Well, I had four entirely unrelated topics to report on, but they'll have to come in separate posts now after this mondo ramble.
Oh! What I did want to exclaim about (in addition to this crazy place in which I find myself geographically) is that after a week of allowing myself to just be here and not fuss about words, I finished my first song yesterday. I'll have it edited down a bit and ready to sing at my birthday show next Wednesday, May 13, in Somerville.
Small miracles, indeed.
-lab
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