Get High

John River, Alaska. Mountain avens in seed. Photo by David W. Shaw

Today, there is a whisper of a breeze: blue-eyed grass dips and bends, the dried seed heads flirtatious winks of the past summer. Living at a touch more than 7000 feet altitude, surrounded by some of the tallest mountains in the range, means that when one needs perspective, you can pull on your shoes and get high. By getting high, I mean slogging yourself up a trail to an outlook. Even on days that I lack the motivation, or the trails are covered in ice, I can cast my mind up the peaks. Maybe today it will be in the piñons with restless flocks of jays, or on a rock bruised from the hooves of big horn sheep. Those moments when I pause with the valleys spread below, I’m seeking clarity, a sense of elemental certainty. Some people don’t like to feel small in a big world. I am not those people. I want to feel like the tiniest seed head of a mountain avens. The barb of a flight feather on a mountain chickadee. A split cobalt seed of a juniper. I seek that sensation of being diminutive in an unpredictable, wild world because it helps me make sense of its complexity.

Blue-eyed grass and Mountain Chickadee. Photos by Amy Turner and David W. Shaw.

When you push yourself to the edge of safety, it doesn’t come without risk or pain. I knew when I switched to writing full-time in 2019 that I was swinging away on the trapeze. I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t always anticipating the fall. There have been countless times this year that I have wondered if I destroyed my lifelong dream of becoming a writer by pursuing it. The jury is still out on that question.

What I do know is that I published a book this year, more than five years after I started writing it. And I am thankful for every person who bought a copy, who left lovely reviews, who sent me kind notes. Every time someone loved Voyage of the Pleiades, it kindled a flame inside of me to keep going.

So, that is what I’m going to try to keep doing. I’ll keep climbing the mountains, putting my fingers on the keyboard, letting my imagination roam. I hope you will stick around for the journey.

Happy New Year!