Fresh Tracks

Maybe it's because the words of Epictetus hit a nerve with me. Or because right now I'm jacked up on enough coffee to make a Rhino float.

Or because I recently found my iPod cord, have filled it to the brim with new music and have been (to borrow a phrase often used by Geoff Cooper) felt like I should rock out with my cock out (not literally, you perverts).

Maybe it's because my daughter read this odd little book she found tonight that was amazingly clever with its one liners (this book, of course, followed Alethea Kontis' AlphaOops which, incidentally, if you have kids and you don't have a copy, you should really fix that situation. It's a beautiful and amazing book by a beautiful and amazing person.

Or maybe it's because of recent mental vacations to beaches or mountains... a little zen thought-sauna, so to speak.

Over the last several months, I've been told I have a broken spirit (I disagreed with this). I've heard I was a bit Hemingway-ish (all right, this made me laugh, cause it was right. A little bit.)

But right now, I have to say, I feel fricking great.

I haven't felt this great since I smoked weed on a nude beach in Jamaica, crystal clear waters in front of me, and the sun's rays beaming down.

Crazy thing is, I still can't put my finger on the reason why. It's a multiple choice thing, but I'm not quite sure the reason matters at the moment.

There's still a fecal storm hovering around my house. Still sickness going on with my wife. Still tight finances (hellllloooo economy? Want to get your shit together please?), and emotional turmoil going on, and all of it still weights heavily on my mind.

But right now I just got back from a walk outside. It's freezing. I mean, it's not Wisconsin cold, but it's enough to make your teeth chatter and tears spring at the corners of your eyes. The wind itself has icy fingers that reach up under your clothes and grab you like a pervert on a New York subway. But it snowed today. Not a lot really. It looked like a damn blizzard outside earlier, but overall, it didn't amount to much.

Next door, the cemetery was oddly deserted all day long. No tire tracks from grieving visitors had broken the new snow.

It had been a while since I'd visited the cemetery - unusual for me, as it's always been a place to clear my head... to unburden.

The sky was overcast. The moon had been tucked in safely out of view. But the night still glowed brightly. I laughed at myself, internally hearing the voice of that creepy-ass woman in Poltergeist (Go toward the light!), and continued my way around the headstones. As I crested the hillside, the wind died down, but it still caressed the branches of the oaks, making small white flurries drift down from their heights.

In a place that held the end of people's lives, I looked across the fields and saw the fresh snow and saw a clean slate. Pure. Unbroken.

As I walked around, headphones blasting Nine Inch Nails, The Black Keys, and Lady Sovereign, I made fresh tracks where there were none before. It felt good and right.

I think I'll try to make this a habit.

You should try it... you might like it yourself.