Mountain biking down a steep trail somewhere in Colorado, I slowed down to take a corner, hit a rock and flew over the handlebars - for a brief moment feeling like I was flying through the aspen air.

I somehow landed on my feet, and looking up realized I never crashed when I forgot to be careful and just let myself go, trusting gravity and my reflexes to work together. But whenever caution set in and I tried to compensate, disaster usually occurred.

My life works exactly the same way, even though I don't always remember to stop being careful. I have a much better time when I just let go.

sid  7 Sep 2003

In Joshua Tree.

A group of us had gathered in Los Angeles at Internet World. It was 1997 -- the early gold rush days of new media replete with ga-zillion dollar sushi meals for thirty hosted by some now long dead forgotten start up. Trade shows numb your mind and a plan was hatched to escape the grind eastward to Joshua Tree National Park.

We parked and I walked away from the group, out into the landscape marveling at the beauty and the start contrast from the lush landscape of my North Eastern childhood. I sat down for the longest time letting the dry, warm heat fill me with contentment. I found a peace in Joshua Tree that I hadn't felt in a long time and I did something I've never done before -- I called my coworkers and begged another day.

The photographs that illustrate this story are from that moment in time and just looking at them brings warmth to my heart.

heather  7 Sep 2003

I found myself in a small town in Kansas. After spending 40 some-odd years of my life as a city girl in Los Angeles, I moved to Kansas following the job promotion of my significant other.

I used to spend two hours one way on the freeways of L.A. driving to a job that paid well, but consumed my days. Four days a week, ten hours a day I slaved to the network and PC’s of a small industrial film company. Tack on that four-hour round trip commute and there wasn’t much time left in the day for family and friends, much less myself.

The promotion came at a time when we were all ready for a change in the way we lived. It’s allowed me the freedom to be a stay-at-home country mom. We have land with woods and a pond. I fell trees and split wood. I mow the measly acre that is manicured lawn around the house. I clear brush so you can see the forest for the trees. Don’t even get me started about septic tank health.

I’ve embraced the life my mother abandoned in a small North Dakota town so many years ago. And it suits me well so I must have found myself.

Juli  7 Sep 2003

Well, I find myself in joshua tree lots of times. but i go there to climb nearly every weekend. But I don't think that counts.

Most appropriate to this post, I found myself in Peru. I spent two weeks there in 1998, hiking the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu. On the way there we passed a ruin called Winaywayna.

Winaywayna is an Inca ruin set into side of a mountain, thought once to be a supply center for Machu Picchu. Winaywayna is loosely defined as "Forever Young". An ironic name for a ruin.

From the terraces of Winaywayna, you can see the winding Urubamba river several thousand feet below. Above you can see the glacier capped Andes, and your ears are filled with the sounds of a waterfall just east of the ruin.

At about 8 PM that night, I went to Winaywayna, wandered off alone, and just sat quietly on a terrace, staring out at the horizon. As I sat, the sun fell, the clouds revealed their Andean prizes, and the moon was bright over the mountains. I sat alone and stared out at the Andes, the Urubamba valley, and the ruins, all illuminated by the ghostly light of the nearly full moon. I sat silently in this place of extraordinary beauty, and watched a distant star suddenly appear from behind the mountains, and move slowly into the night sky. I sat silently in the presence of history, high in the Andes, and did nothing but watch the world turn.

I sat silently, in touch with my soul.

the mighty jimbo  7 Sep 2003

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