Agnes Update

There's a latest Agnes in my life. (I wonder: will she be tickled to see herself here, wrapped with my words?) This particular Agnes is different from most of the other Agneses in that she sometimes shares with me what she thinks of what she finds here, and that's nice, you know? I mean, it wouldn't be nice if she hated my writing, but then, if that were the case, she probably wouldn't stay an Agnes for long, would she?

A bit of advice I've often seen given to writers is that you should direct a piece toward one person in particular; in doing so, the thinking goes, you can use your knowledge of what that singular reader cares about and enjoys to narrow down the infinite number of things that you might say about a thing. Certain details come to focus, others fade from view.

Unless I'm writing a letter, I basically never follow that advice. I pretty much write for myself. The best pieces, I don't know what they're going to say until I start writing them, so it's not like writing for myself ruins the surprise or anything. When I start the zero draft, I don't know where they're going. That's why I zero-draft. I start by writing something about the topic, and I trust that, through the writing, I will learn what it is I want to say. And I figure that if I write for myself and the piece pleases me--if I say something interesting, and say it well--other people will probably like it too.

But it's genuinely kind of fun to know that there's an Agnes looking over your shoulder. I'd hate to disappoint her, so her presence inspires me to keep my promise to publish, but that's not the important part. Instead it's the hope that maybe, just maybe, if I string the words together just so, I'll delight her. Delighting an Agnes is a great reason to write.

On This Historic Day

I don't often write about soccer anymore, because I don't often watch soccer anymore; and I don't often watch soccer anymore because:

(1) The dream I once had, of becoming a widely read soccer blogger and then turning that into a career as a widely read soccer writer, is, on the modern internet, no longer really a viable path, but also:

(2) I tend to watch sports as a fan, which is to say I watch my favorite team (or, in individual sports, player) rather obsessively, which has the advantage of giving me kind of a control group/experimental group way of seeing the game/match, but has the radical disadvantage of meaning that if my team currently sucks, I watch a lot of shitty games. In soccer, my favorite team is Tottenham Hotspur, and while they do not suck, watching them obsessively for many years taught me that modern soccer teams play too many matches, and even the young studs who make up the squads on top teams accumulate so much fatigue over the course of the season that they can fall way off their best. That means that, as past seasons wore on, I found myself watching a lot of sub-par matches, until a few years back I finally asked myself, "Why am I spending my free time watching low-quality matches that I don't actually enjoy?"

But: Tottenham opened their new stadium today. The old White Hart Lane, opened in 1899, has been replaced with a new, modern, state-of-the-art White Hart Lane, and apparently Tottenham can make a fair argument to claim that it is the best soccer stadium in the world, which, as a fan, is pretty damn exciting. They played today against Crystal Palace, and I really couldn't not watch a match that begins a new era for a club I do still love (if maybe not with the same unabashed ardent fervor I used feel, having been burned a few times too many over the years). I even pulled out my Spurs scarf, despite my belief that it is mostly unlucky; and I wore it as I watched, and Spurs won 2-0, and even as I write this I wear that scarf still, and perhaps when I go to bed I will put the scarf on the pillow next to me, because true random is not only not rational, it's either borderline insane or stupid or both, but also

FUCK YEAH WE WON COME ON YOU SPURS.

Mission Not Accomplished: Mission: Accomplished

You should see the zero-drafts. This was supposed to be a simple piece, basically knocked off to keep my promise and make me smile and do both while acknowledging that I just got back from a week-long trip, had seven-ish hours in the car, and maybe I don't want to be in front of the computer for very long. But then I fucking hit a vein and I'm not going anywhere until I've dug it all out.

The piece is supposed to be called Mission: Accomplished, and it's just a list of little anecdotes that kept me delighted over the course of the trip--but each one brings to mind another, and so I keep going.

Here are four:

  • I had six days there and intended to explore six mountains: Alta, Snowbird, Brighton, Solitude, Deer Valley, and Park City/Canyons. I didn't make it to Park City/Canyons. Why? Because untouched leftovers at Snowbird, that's why.

  • I went to Epic Brewing's tasting room, watched first-hand as they served everything out of bottles instead of on tap (if it's on draft in Utah, it has to be 4% or lower) and shook my head. That's enough: I've earned the right to complain about Utah's ridiculous liquor laws.

  • I had my first ever Utah garlicburger. While sharing conversation with a stuntwoman/model. Neither of those facts is made up.

  • I had my first ever LCC powder day. Twelve inches overnight and another six-ish during the day. Siiiiiiick.

Utah Ski Trip: The Punchline

I came to Utah on a fact-finding mission to learn about the ski areas in the vicinity of Salt Lake City. Could I base here for part of next winter and run seminars in flow? Would the terrain at the local areas be supportive of that idea? Would it be a good place to bring students?

I came on a fact-finding mission, and facts were definitely found. I could certainly base here. Each of the local areas (I got to know Alta, Snowbird, Brighton, Solitude, and Deer Valley) has something to offer. I would have different options about where and how to teach, depending on the abilities of my students.

These explorations have been exciting. Now I just need to bring this idea to fruition.

Utah Ski Trip, Day 3: Snowbird Powder Day

Last night, it snowed twelve inches at Snowbird.

A powder day at AltaBird is considered one of the hallowed experiences in skiing. People talk about it in hushed tones.

Now I see why.

There are, I'm estimating, a bazillion different lines you could ski at Snowbird (and Alta, too), and most of them are at least a little challenging. Many of them are serious gnar. Deep snow has the effect of slowing things way down, though, so turns become far more forgiving, and you find yourself looking down (or, afterward, up) some crazy steep run, thinking, "I got this." In deep snow in seriously steep terrain, each turn is like starting to fall off the mountain, but then being caught and buoyed up by some enormous, gentle hand.

First tracks didn't last for terribly long, but there were soft turns to be had if you knew where to look, which I did not, but I met a handful of people over the course of the day who were willing to show me around a little. There is something of a debate in the skiing world about whether or not you should offer your local knowledge to outsiders, but in my experience most people are generous and want to share. There is a thrill, I feel, in giving someone access to part of the mountain they might not otherwise experience. It feels like sharing something holy.


We traversed hard skier's right, under the Little Cloud lift and onward toward the Gad Chutes, and the pace picked up, and the snow underfoot got lighter and lighter, and it felt oddly and beautifully like we were flying.

Utah Ski Trip, Day 2: Deer Valley

There's not much gnar at Deer Valley, but one face, called Daly Bowl, beckoned me over. It's legitimate double-diamond terrain, and it looked sexy as I scouted a line from the lift, so I decided to give it a shot.

I had an ugly run, just pure survival skiing. I succumbed utterly to my fear. I couldn't find any flow at all.

So what did I do about that?

I accepted it. I dropped back down to easier terrain. I want to be someone who effortlessly shreds all terrain, no matter how gnarly--but I'm not. So I do my best to meet myself where I am. Today I couldn't overcome the fear. I'll try to do better tomorrow.

Utah Ski Trip, Day 1: Alta

It's a little easier to just get my gear on than to fully take in my surroundings, but as I'm getting my boots out of the back, I look up at the face looming above me (a run, I later learn, called "Alf's High Rustler") and exclaim, "Holy fuck! That is fucking gnar."

It's about 10:30am as I gear up. It was spring-warm yesterday, so no sense in anything like dawn patrol. I was hoping that in arriving a bit late, things will have warmed up enough that I won't be skiing chunk-ice, but that no one is on or even eyeing that gloriously gnarly face above me, nor any of the myriad steep and sexy lines that snake among the trees looker's right, fed from the old fixed double-chair, tells me everything I need to know about conditions right now. Okay, fine, I think. It's a groomer morning. I'll have fun regardless.

I'm struck, most of all, by how little it looks like Colorado, and how exciting it is that I'm actually here.

Explorations in the Zero Drafts, 26 Mar 2019

Two ideas being explored in zero-drafts right now:

THE FINAL ADVENTURES OF HASHTAG CARL, about to my car, and the roadtrip it (he?) and I are currently on, and how those two topics relate to my work to radically expand abundance in my life.

ANNIVERSARIES. Today I drove to Salt Lake City. This week a year ago, I also drove to (and through--we stopped near Ogden) Salt Lake City. I followed the same route today as a year ago, and reflected on how radically different my life is compared to this time last year. I believe that anniversaries have important energetic significance; I've been reflecting on this belief and the changes in my life all day today.

Salt Lake, Here I Come

A year ago yesterday, partly in response to a deeply challenging situation in my life, partly in the recognition that "I can just do this," I booked my flight from Denver to Barcelona, finally committing to the Europe trip that I'd be exploring but had been afraid to fully take the plunge on.

I bring this up because earlier tonight, after a fair amount of hemming and hawing, I booked six nights in Salt Lake City, UT, for a ski trip. Starting tomorrow.

This trip (thankfully) will demand a whole lot less preparation than flying across the ocean to spend seven weeks in Europe did. This will be kinda more like, "Throw the skis in the car, don't forget the toiletries, and away we go." But regardless, there's always a pleasure found at the moment of truly committing.

On this trip, I'll get to explore several ski areas I've never been to before. That's exciting. Who knows what other experiences the universe has in store for me on this trip? I hope (and can probably safely expect) that the repercussions on my life from this trip will be more uniformly positive than what happened during and after the trip to Europe. I even dare to consider that the positive impacts could be as great, or even greater. You never know who or what you might meet when you're open to flow.

This Is Not a Placeholder

This is an actual piece. It's a little after midnight, which makes it technically the day before, and I did a bunch of stuff today that was all awesome. From when and where I woke up to who I had lunch with to driving home to the nap I took to the cookie dough I made to igloo building to writing, I have been very very alive today, and if I am publishing an idea about the idea of the work I'm doing, well, here you go.