The silken swoosh

OK, so I realized today that there is no way I am going to maintain my previous tone for years to come. It is too different from my regular writing style, and feels like too much effort, for me to be able to continue it day in and day out. I was going to erase my previous entries but then I realized, I can still attempt to write well on some days, when the mood strikes me, and just write train-of-thought the rest of the time. This blog is about me, and I am not the same every day.

Of course, no sooner had I written that paragraph than I wanted to try to write creatively again. I yearn to capture the silken swoosh of my skis on the glistening white blanket that tucks in the forested land around me. The euphoria of perfectly linked turns that seem without effort, feeling as if I am soaring a few heavenly inches above the earth, is something I will lust and crave for perpetuity. The beauty of the snow-and-crystal-frosted pine trees hibernating in their wintry glory beneath the vast never-ending azure blue bowl of the southwest sky is a backdrop that human grandeur cannot compete with. The exhilaration I experience from the ability of my own body, which I have sweated and cried and fought to change and can give me so much joy and pleasure and happiness, is most evident when I am hurtling down a bumps run in complete control. There are, in fact, no words to capture that electricity felt at the top of an expert's only run with the knowledge that I have the skill to rock it and make it seem easy! The attempt at transmitting that power is enough and it will continue to be a reason why I write.