“Winter Storm Walk before the Blue Sky” by Brian Michael Barbeito

“Winter Storm Walk before the Blue Sky” by Brian Michael Barbeito

There was nobody around and we had the place to ourselves. It did not look like late March, that much is for certain, as the storm let out snow to cover most of the woodlands and the wind sounded off like a roaring sea, or I suppose, like the wind itself. Yesterday we had gone to another entrance of Highway 48 that, in look and on paper, was just the place for its large space and many paths, easily accessible parking lot and its overall placement and mise-en-scene. But it wasn’t. It was only mediocre for us. We got a bit of exercise and a required walk, but that’s all it felt like, – dutiful, average, fine enough. Today we were bent on getting back to our old and more regular stomping grounds. Can it be that similar forests, only a few miles apart, can carry such a different hidden vibration or spirit altogether?

It seems to be the case.

We were then in the right place. And we went along long paths and over little summits, beside a deep valley and past gorgeous black creeks that were foiled and juxtaposed by the preternaturally bright white snow. The dogs ran and sniffed, played and explored and we were all basically back near and on and around and in our old stomping grounds so to speak. I saw some Chaga, and an old abandoned car. I walked widely to the South, North, East, and West, and we covered much, much, much ground. The air and the atmosphere felt clean and untouched, magical even in parts. The psychological sets, or kind of psych, that societal ambitions put on people, did not get me, was what I thought to myself on the way back. My peers and family, teachers and bosses and others, – could not make me conform or buy into their mindset, try as they did. I didn’t and don’t, and shall never want what they are selling. Sure I need a few of their things, several of them in fact, – but it’s that much only and no more, – those items and services in order to maintain as much freedom and creativity as possible.

Well, the storm let up near the end, and I kept glancing up at the blue of the sky that was peaking down from the otherwise verdantly opaque firmament that the trees conspired to make. Hmm, I thought, that is something, that simple plain color blue that sometimes infuses the whole sky over. And I could only wonder then why the entire world does not stare constellation-moon-sky-bird-sun bound all the day and night long.

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