Mayan ruin Tikal, which we will be visiting on the trip,

Music: Railroad Earth Jungle Jam

Every year Colorado Mountain College, the fine institution I find myself a student at, offers international trips. This year’s is a trip to Guatemala to experience the local art and learn about the previously resolved bloody conflict that ravaged the people there. I never had any particular interest in that part of the world; however I do have an insatiable thirst for traveling. So naturally, when such a trip was offered I jumped on the opportunity.

After I registered for the trip it slipped to the back of my mind.

That is until this past week, when I received an e-mail from my instructors. In it were the time and place of our first meeting along with the first set of pre-trip reading materials. These included an over view of the conflict in Guatemala as well as a book with testimonials from women who lived through the war.  Both of these reading struck a chord deep within my heart.

For those of you who don’t know, this is what happened in Guatemala. In 1960, the American CIA funded a military coup in Guatemala to over throw the democratically elected government. Under the guise of protecting the world from communism, the Guatemala military backed by the US government proceeded to kill over 200,000 of the local population, most of them indigenous Mayan people. It is now obvious that the entire military takeover was an effort of American big business to protect their foreign lands, as much of it was being threatened under the policies of Guatemala’s democratic government. The War ended in 1996 when all the guerilla groups had formed one party known as the URNG, and signed a peace agreement with the newly restored democratic government.

It is events like this that make me ashamed of the American government, and I hope a deeper understanding of the conflict will help to ease my second hand guilt over the acts of my government.

Our trip will take place March first through the eleventh, with meetings every Friday until then, and I will be posting updates here until the conclusion of the trip.

Light leaked through the gaps in my shades, making it feel much earlier than it was. It had been two days since the valley was last blessed with a new blanket of snow. My better sense told me to stay home today.

None the less as ten o’clock rolled around I found myself on the gondola, headed up to snowboard with my buddy Jordan. My expectations we’re low at best. The middle of every run was ice. Not just slippery but hard, clear, day-ruining ice. Regardless, we took a few runs finding some ride-able snow along the edges of the tress where people don’t normally ride, however it was disappointing.  I was ready to give up on the mountain as lost; a victim of our bizarrely dry winter.

But then we met up with these people;

As seen from left to right: Peter Mcdowell, Drew McGlone, Liam Connely, Brad Poirier, Jordan Kupfer

They claimed to have knowledge of a route to the top of The Pony Express, a lift that had yet to open up. The trails were open but you had to hike to them, which means the snow there would be relatively unspoiled, and this is where we set out for. We dropped off the back of Morning Side through the Christmas tree shoot. And what unfolded before my eyes was unbelievable; good snow, unspoiled by the countless tracks that crisscross the rest of the resort. We happened upon magical glades with three, four, even six inches of untouched snow, just waiting for us to come and play.

Eventually the slope flattened out too much to continue riding, at this point we all took off our snowboards and followed the roughly defined trail to the road. Once we reached it we turned our sights west and uphill, to the top of Pony Express. And only a short hike later, this is what we beheld:

It just goes to show that even when the snow isn’t falling every night, there are still miracles to be had on the most unexpected of runs, and there is always peace on top of the mountain. There will always be at least one powder cash, sitting untouched and just waiting to reward the adventurer for their curiosity.

As far back as I can remember I’ve loved listening to music. My first music player was a portable CD player, and this was the most magnificent invention ever to grace my fingers. Suddenly the world was more exciting, and less noisy. I was able to drown out the more unpleasant sounds in my life with whatever I chose.

As I grew a bit bigger a whole new world opened up to me, the world of live music. I found my solace in the middle of crowded ballrooms and the endless seas of smiling faces. I found peace amidst the rhythmic jostling of the crowds and the sense of unity that music brings to a room full of strangers. I found myself in the melodies and the baselines.

There was one type of music however that never spoke to me, and that is rap/hip-hop music. I’d never seen anything special in what those artists are doing, and I had never been entertained, let alone impressed with any artist making that kind music.

So when I heard the first ever show at Red Rocks in the wintertime was to be Atmosphere, a Midwestern hip-hop group, I was disappointed. My conscience wouldn’t let me buy a ticket to music I didn’t enjoy just because the show is a historical event. It seems however that Atmosphere was in the cards for me. Three days before the show a friend of mine offered me a ticket. Here was the solution to my problem, I would get to help make history but I didn’t have to spend any money supporting music I don’t believe in.

To my pleasant surprise I had an amazing time. The was as good as any I’ve seen at your average show  I met people from all walks of life, all of them friendly as can be and ready to have a good time.

The music was better than I expected, much better in fact. I had a lovely time grooving the cold away. What shocked me the most however, was what the artists had to say. The messages the band had to spread were things that I agreed with whole heartedly, they represented the reasons I love music. It warmed my heart to see people excited about positive things instead of the ‘hoes and money’ that stereotypically color rap music.

As I made my way home the day after the show I reflected on my experience, and this is what I thought; is something to be said for experiencing all things. I went three hours down to Denver to see music I was not a fan of and ended up having a blast. Not to mention I was able to make a little history. I gained respect for a different type of music, and experienced what other people see in it. This little insight into the minds of those around me gave me hope. Weekends like this are the reason I love my life here, there is so much culture to see, and each time I experience another little niche of Colorado culture, the more I like it.

It is odd how a place can turn into a home so quickly. I lived more or less in the same house for eighteen years, and it only took a couple of months for Steamboat to become my home. It took exactly one day for me to be comfortable in this town and with the other kids in the dorms.

But the meaning of home runs deeper than comfort. This is the place my heart aches to be. This is where I plan on returning when I am old and tired to lay my head down for good. The air in this valley meets my lips sweeter than anywhere else. The sky is a better shade of blue here. I couldn’t live in a more perfect place even if I thought one up in my imagination and it sprang into being.

Roughly ten days into my winter vacation my heart began to itch for this valley. Seeing my family was  wonderful and I was grateful for the time with them, however ten days was too long to be away from my home. My heart longed for the wide open skies and sweeping winds, and for the trees completely encased in snow so that they looked like a most delicious white chocolate treat.

Upon my much awaited return I spent two days where everyone was excited. Smiles and hugs were exchanged all around, people greeted friends whom they hadn’t seen in a month, although it felt like years. Everything it seemed, was perfect.

And then,

As this new semester began we all flexed our mental muscles, stiff from a month-long vacation and found it to be uncomfortable. Simple habits had to be re-learned, like going to class and keeping a somewhat normal schedule. The first week was a struggle for everyone, I could see it in their faces and their longing glances out of windows during class. I could see it in the way they walk. I as well found it hard to readjust.  We drank more coffee, and tried to fix our schedules to be somewhat bearable.

We embraced our home, even if it meant a full-time schedule yet again.

And now, a week later everyone has relaxed again into the busy season of mountain life. For it is indeed necessary to relax into it. It wont due to be stressed in the winter time; this is after all the reason we live here.

A few nights ago I gathered with about fifteen other people to participate in a nationwide art project. Thanks to the generosity of several foundations we were lucky enough to have over 100 tires and over 100 ropes donated to our project. And so splitting into teams we set out in down town Denver to hang tire swings in unexpected places.

Our mission: to encourage people to slow down and play.

The sky was clear and dark, and the air was becoming crisp as we gathered to receive our instructions.  By the time we set out with tires under arm and ropes in hand each breath was visible in the night air. Our group split into teams and we went our separate ways. Several minutes later found my friend Simon and I standing under a bridge, giggling like school girls as we played on our newly erected tire swing. I felt a surge of joy and contentment wash over me.

We ran from location to location, hanging up our swings and trying not to be seen, and also fighting to not be overcome by our laughter.

This type of playing is good for the soul.

I remember the day when ‘playing’ became uncool. Instead of playing together, my friends and I started ‘hanging-out’. Our activities didn’t really change overnight but the terminology and most importantly our attitude changed. Now playing was not the cool thing to do. I think this happens to everyone at some point in their life, however we should fight to avoid it. Playing is exercise for the soul, and for the body.

It is a way to relax without sitting around on your butt and getting fat.
It reminds us not to take ourselves so seriously; to enjoy our lives.

This life is truly not worth living unless it is enjoyed. As far as I am concerned, whether there is more after this life or not, this is still the only time you are allotted on this magnificent planet. It is therefore the responsibility of each individual to ensure that their time here is happy.  The best way I know of to be happy is to play. Through play we form relationships with other people and with our place. Both people and the environment benefit deeply from these relationships. Play also allows us to connect with our own souls more deeply and awakens an innocence that normally eludes those over the age of ten.

I am not saying that adults do not play. However our play consist of going to concerts, snowboarding, skiing, river rafting, hiking, biking, fishing or similar activities. However, these lack the sheer joy of laughing and playing like children.

The only reason I’ve been able to come up with as to why people who live in the mountains are so happy and friendly is because we are all so obsessed with our play. We choose to live in little communities hours from the city, all so we are closer to our play ground.

But even people obsessed with playing fail to stop and really play like children. Laughing, running, jumping, being silly, all in order to remember a little bit of the sheer bliss of childhood.
This type of play is what we should all be doing.

Get down in the dirt and make some mud pies, stomp in some puddles, and swing on the swings.

You just might like it.

To learn more about the tire swing project, click the link below to view a video made by the artist who thought up the project.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uU_P0L_CVCI

Music: Railroad Earth, Like a Buddha

A sea of strangers, every single one of whom are absolutely excited about being alive.

A mass of people all moving together, a sea of good energy

we are all here for one reason.

Six extraordinarily talented musicians, here to exhibit their passion.

A room pulsing with energy, everyone positively exhilarated.

Smiles on every face in sight.

Friends behind me, next to me, above me and everywhere I turn.

Balloons, per-ma-grins, new friends, bliss.

What were you doing at midnight?

Music, Put a Little Love in Your Heart: Al Green and Annie Lennox

Candy canes, trees hanging with tinsel and ornaments, mistletoe, little porcelain nativity scenes, wrapping paper, poinsettias, stockings hung by the chimney, nut crackers, gingerbread houses, really bad T.V. specials, even worse music everywhere I go, children’s magazines with every other toy circled, parents lying to their children to make them behave, lists of what people want, bells on every door, fake icicles, giant inflatable Santa Clauses, plastic reindeer, enormous electricity bills, presents upon presents upon presents.

SALE, SALE, SALE!!!

ONE DAY ONLY!!

24 HOUR SALE!!!!!

These are the things that haunt my Christmas season.

These are the things that make half of me (the rational half) despise this time of year. It is a glorification of rampant destructive consumerism. It is a wonderful excuse to go out and spend money on things that no one needs and mostly nobody wants. It’s a time of year to stress out over the perfect gift. Unbeknownst to you, that perfect gift from last year is still sitting in their closet, forgotten, and un-touched since it was placed there the day after Christmas last year. What a waste.

So while you again wander aimlessly through every store you can think of looking for SOMETHING, anything really that will please whoever is next on your list, Toys-R-Us and Wal-Mart and Best Buy are raking in more cash than anyone can imagine.

Whoever you are, no matter what you believe about the meaning of Christmas, this is a debasement of that belief. Whether you are celebrating the birth of Christ, the winter solstice, or simply having Christmas because that is what you’ve always done, this celebration of our consumer culture is not part of the meaning of Christmas. If it were we would call it Thanksgetting; the national holiday to celebrate money and greed, and to inspire those values in our children.

So I challenge you to stop this gross dehumanization of Christmas and put people back in the holiday. This year, instead of celebrating objects; celebrate beauty and charity and grace. Celebrate joy, longevity, and mercy. Rejoice in the beauty of the world around you for it is the only pure thing left. Celebrate innocence and remember when you had some; celebrate the children in your life who still do.

But above all celebrate love. That is what this season is about after all.  It is a time to celebrate the people you love by showing them how much you love them. It is about demonstrating that there is still love and compassion in the world. In our society rend apart by hard economic times, big businesses only concerned with their wallets and not the people or the environment, wars on Obama-only-knows how many different fronts, and an unsatisfied 99%, it is hard to see any love in the world anymore. Therefore I am asking everyone to find a little love in their heart, and do something unexpected to show it.

Take a meal to someone you know who is down on their luck. Donate some of your presents to families who have none.  Shovel your neighbor’s driveway. It really doesn’t matter how you show love, as long as you put some of it back into Christmas.

It is bad enough that we have to save a time of year to be nicer and show love, and even worse that it has morphed into a consumer holiday. And so I entrust you all with this task: Occupy Christmas.

Thursday afternoon, two o’clock. I sat in my Wilderness and the American Ethics class and realized that I was sad for it to be over. Never before did I have a class that I was thoroughly excited about. I learned that there are like minded people out there, people who actually care about the planet they live on and are working to help it. I feel a sense of family with the people in that class even though; we never really learned each other’s names. I know I could walk up to anyone from the class and feel comfortable talking to them like a friend. We all have the same goal; we are all here for the same reason. I think it is people like the ones in that class that gives this town the sense of community we have, everyone just wants to preserve our valley and love it the best they can.

For two weeks in a row our cozy mountain life turned into a whirlwind of studying, tests, papers, presentations, and free coffee. However, slowly and one by one, everyone took their last test, turned in their last paper, did a victory dance, and went home.

I went back to the dorms at eight o’clock last night and the parking lot was emptier than I’ve ever seen it. A peaceful lovely quiet had descended upon campus.  Street light reflected off the sheet of ice we call a parking lot, dusted with snow. I felt the stress of the last two weeks leave my body; my first semester of college, in the books, a shining moment in my academic career. I did better this semester than any other semester of my thirteen years of school, and I had the most fun. As I thought these thoughts the place in my heart for steamboat and CMC grew a bit bigger. This really is a magical place.

Happy Holidays everyone, I hope you get to spend this time with your families, both related and not. In this time of year that is easily consumed by rampant greed and consumerism, I encourage everyone to put those thoughts aside, and put the people you love in the forefront of your mind, and your heart. Things will break and come and go, however true family will always be with you.

The first thing I did when I got up today; high tailed it to Grand County to see my family.

Music: Full Moonshine, Old Town Pickers                                                                                                                                               This song should be played once you have read the post, it could be a bit distracting to do both at the same time. Enjoy!

One of my favorite things about Steamboat is all of the musical people who live here. There is live music everywhere you turn, whether it be hippies in the parking lot of the gas station beating their drums, or bands playing at bars and even on the mountain. More than once I have walked into a house party only to find the people throwing it sitting behind various instruments ready to jam. This kind of musical atmosphere is ideal for people, like me, who positively thrive off the energy and the movement that comes along with live music. If it was a viable lifestyle I would leave on festival tour tomorrow. It is great for me then, that live music is abundant in Steamboat.

Last Saturday I had the unique pleasure of seeing one of Steamboat’s local string bands, Old Town Pickers, play at a bar in Hayden. Hula-hoops in hand, my friend Tabatha and I set out to enjoy our evening. And it was even better than I expected it to be. I hooped until I was too tiered, and too dizzy to move. Later, I got to spend some time talking with the band, whom are all amazingly cool people and fantastically talented at their various instruments, which included; a dobro, a banjo, stand up bass, and of course, an acoustic guitar.

Everyone at there was as nice as the sunshine in spring, and really interested in how Tabatha and I learned to hoop. We talked with them for a few hours, everyone huddled around an enormous bucket of peanuts that none of us could stop eating. They were more addicting than potato chips. And toward the end of the night, Tabatha brought me a very nice older man to dance with.

Little did I know that dancing in this bar meant swing dancing. I was twirled around like a toy top, my partner demonstrating amazing coordination and skill, so graceful. I however felt more like a drunken ballerina, tripping over my own feet and his, than anything graceful. Despite my difficulties, that is one of the best dances I have ever had. My partner, Scott, was pro. As he twirled me back and forth and to and fro an enormous smile spread across my face. I relaxed more and more the longer we danced, and I was finally able to let him lead. After that it just got better. I must have been twirling and smiling and tripping over feet for five songs before I was too exhausted to do it anymore. And through the hooping and the peanuts and the swing dancing, the Pickers played away in their corner, one of the best displays of bluegrass musicianship I have ever seen in a town this small, and better than a lot of acts i’ve seen in Denver. Without them, my night would not have been possible, and I look forward to many like it in the future.

I don’t know how I got so lucky to live in such a beautiful place with such beautiful music and wonderful people.

Old Town Pickers are playing again this Wednesday, December 7, at Carl’s Tavern on 7^th  street and Yampa. This is an all ages event so there is no reason not to come out! I’ll be there and I hope to see you, bring your friends and your dancing shoes.