Sunday, November 13, 2011

Today's Rave: Nature

Yes, I am a ranter.  But I am also a raver.  And today's note is a rave.  Yay for nature.  Yay for snowmelt streams, yay for hypoxic altitude highs.  There is nothing like being in the mountains.  Sleeping bags.  Snowy peaks.  Warm premade margaritas straight from the bottle fortified with extra tequila.   For breakfast.   I threw that in to keep you from unliking my blog.  Because it just might be too damned heart-warming to hear me tell you that I only had to take 0.5 mg of Vitamin K each evening and that was only because I was worried about bears.  Bears really like Klonopin and I wasn't about to give mine up.  So that's ironic--see what I did there?  Especially when I found out at the ranger station that the bears won't even look at the generic.  They really like those cut-out Ks.

Once upon a time I climbed a mountain.  Then I took this photo.   The end.
The outdoors is very therapeutic for the mentally ill.  I came back down the mountain with all my problems solved.  You might think this to be the death knell for the KlonChron.  But not to worry.  As soon as I hit sea level, all the problems started looming again, and the solutions I had worked out all, well,  dissolved.  Because that's what solutions do. 

Anyway, I got a taste of what it might be like to be not-so-mood-unstable and I'm trying to hang on to that.  But it does feel a little bit like being in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.  This is a great flick if you haven't caught it, which would be highly unlikely, because it has to be in the top ten flicks of any nut job worth his salt.  A taste of mental health is like a taste of crack.  Well, technically I don't know what crack is like, but it's a simile which is a rhetorical device and not literal so suck it.

But I digress (of course I do).  The ESotSM analogy is where I wanted to be, so back to that.  Stability and health is like the place that Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet are trying to find where they can hide from the memory-eraser.  But kinda in reverse.  More of an elusive place you occasionally stumble upon but can't remember how to get back to.  All the while the chaos of life is swirling around and distracting you from your quest.  Being up in the mountains is a place like that for me.  I can't wait to go back.  I'm having tears just thinking about it.  (Don't worry--it happens at least twice a day.)   I have to figure out a way to stay there forever.  I'll be getting on that just as soon as all these people who have appeared in my house stop distracting me with their clutter and demands and randomness.  It could happen.  But don't flush the K just yet.  Kisses.


  1. Yes. You have a voice in longer more beautiful form. Love reading all of it. Xo

  2. This is a lovely are clearly not alone at sea level or on a mountain...and your voice means so much to a lot of people...I am really glad I met you yesterday through IWADB. I am not kidding about the interview would you up for it? No worries either way...

  3. Wonderful! I feel best in nature, as well. I've never been to any mountains though. My nature retreat of choice is water. Any kind of water. Rivers are the bestest because they make that beautiful, calming rivery sound. Lakes are nice because I can swim in them and feel the healing, transforming powers of the water all over me. (sorry about that bit of cheese)
    So glad you're blogging!

  4. So true! Endless Sunshine was a great movie, and I love your analogy. I often wish I lived closer to nature. Sure, I could drive the fam to a state or metro park, but there's the whole spending half the day getting ready to leave the house routine. The smells, the sounds, the energy: it's incredibly life affirming. Then we have to leave because no one actually lives in the woods, and we're back in our old, familiar environment, back to the superficial bullsh*t.

    Why is it so difficult to hold on to that feeling?

  5. From the Bungalow posted a link on his blog, leading me here.

    I second what Katy said above: you do have a voice in the longer form.

    I spent a summer on an unpopulated island in British Columbia. I often wish I could go back, or that most of my pictures from the time hadn't been destroyed, but I'm grateful to see the handful that do and remember, for that moment, what it like to have both my joys and my struggles be insular.

    I, too, wish I knew how to bring that feeling back for more than a moment, but savor it while it's here.

    I hope you find a way to keep it.

  6. I had to move to the country/mountains. My bipolar was cramping everyone's style. I sooooo understand you

  7. You have somehow found a way to get into my head and put my thoughts into words. <3