The Razor's Thin Edge

There is a razor’s thin edge of existence in life. I have seen it in the mountains. A place where you know if you jump into a couloir to ski it your first few turns are the most critical. If you miss any of them and lose your balance you will most definitely fall to your death. It seems that the younger you are in life, the farther beyond that edge you step.  There is nothing like the exhilaration, the adrenalin rush, the sheer thrill of pushing the envelope just beyond that edge.

When I was twenty five and skiing at Arapahoe Basin in Colorado the edge blurred into reality for me. Arapahoe Basin was then the highest lift serviced mountain in America at 12,500 feet in elevation. The main lift brought you to the top of the mountain, and you could traverse into Lenawee Mountain and climb higher to get great powder shots. You could also drop over the backside into Montezuma Bowl and ski incredible vertical terrain and deep out of bounds powder, but you would have to hike out. Looking across Route 6 at the awesome Professor with its seven cornices would orient you toward the Pallavicini, on your left and the infamous Wall, the Wall was at the same elevation as the summit except that  there was an incredible vertical drop down from the summit with a steep incline back up to the cornice. The prevailing winds would race across the giant top of the wall and create a massive wind blown hanging cornice. It was always unstable and could fracture and avalanche at any time. Often it grew to enormous proportions and would be a twenty to thirty foot drop to the steep vertical slope below. On cold winter days it was always more stable and provided and excellent platform for launching into thin air before landing on the steep lower terrain. The lower terrain vertical was such that if you were not acutely aware of bringing your arms forward and keeping your elbows tucked in you might drag your arms on the slope behind you throwing off your balance.

One particular winter day I took the leap of faith and hit the deep powder successfully. I was just starting my second critical turn when another skier, who had not seen me jump from the cornice traversed across in front of me. I narrowly missed a collision but the tips of my skis caught the tails of his. My skis stopped abruptly. I was launched into a tip roll, a somersault on skis. Skiing with my bindings cranked down tight did nothing for easy release. The motto of the day was “Deliver us from premature release.” Every time I came back up on my skis I would again roll over and bury my head and neck in the snow. I was sure that this time my neck would break and I would die, or worse be paralyzed for life. This went on for what I thought was an eternity. It was then that my right shoulder caught a boulder. My shoulder dislocated and my ligaments and tendons were torn. It however had arrested my forward tumbling. I was unable to move my neck and it took months for both my shoulder and neck to heal. I said in the brashness of my youth, someday I will get a plastic socket. Through the pain in my later years, the prospect of a major operation does not intrigue me.

It brings me back to the fine line of existence in life and the mountains. I had realized my mortality. I was no longer an immortal God as I had thought in my youth. I had experienced near death. I never again skied with such reckless abandon. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I pushed the limit, even in my later years. I however possessed fear, a good healthy dose of it. It is detrimental when you love and play in the mountains to be afraid. Fear is healthy but you lose some of your edge. If you hesitate before turning on a steep slope or performing a feat while climbing or mountaineering it can be disastrous. I lost some of the thrill, to some degree, I had been conquered by nature instead of conquering it. I am saddened today by it, but it is as the world is.

I feel today like I am again standing on that wind blown cornice. I am more than twice that age now. The sky is azure blue, the wind gently rushes through my thinning hair, the snow is deep and the sun is shinning brightly. It is up to me to take the leap. What in the world am I talking about?

I have always wanted to pursue my writing career, but I always chose the safer accepted route of a business career in the private sector. The thought of contacting agents and editors and publishers has come and gone often. I even tried self publishing with out any great success. Always like a giant Goliath, the fear was in front of me, taunting me, calling out my name. It is time to slay the giant.

Today, I welcome you to Sun Moon Books. Look us up at www.sunmoonbooks.com. Our new blog. We will soon be publishing ebooks. My collection of ski short stories “White Dreams” will be available in mid to late February. I have another collection of horse short stories and two novels in the works for the next several years. Standing here on the cornice wondering if I should jump into that couloir full of snow snakes and conquer nature or be conquered by it, I am reminded of a quote that is attributed to the ages but no one sage in particular. “Leap and the net will appear.”          

A Pilgrimage To Swami's

I have always thought my Epitaph would read “Enter Weary Traveler.” One of my favorite lines in a song has been, “You give the appearance of one widely traveled. Miracles appear in the strangest of places sit down let me buy you a beer.” 

 


Looking back at a Writing Conference I attended in Telluride, Colorado, It seems like I was visited by one. 

Entering into a book store across from the performance theatre, I immediately flashed on a serene face on the cover of a book titled, “The Autobiography of a Yogi.” The picture was of Paramahansa Yogananda, the man who would become my eventual Guru.  He is the founder of the Self Realization Fellowship. I was soon to begin my studies of Kriya Yoga, and my journey to becoming a card carrying Yogi.

I don’t think I ever really believed in Miracles. Oh! I had heard of all the Biblical Miracles the great ones, but not any personal ones. I’m not sure that you recognize them when you see them. They are subtle.

A nice story at a glance, but where is the miracle? I returned to my writing loft in Vail, Colorado and continued my studies. The veil of maya was slowly lifted from my life as well as the cloud of alcohol that ruled my life. I continued my writing and ski bumming life. 

After attending a writing conference in Aspen, the opportunity to move to that city and ski Ajax  opened up. I quickly accepted it and moved. At the very same time, the manager of the local health club, the Aspen Athletic Club, was hoping to become involved with a group of people her own age and looking for a new job. Kathy, my boss and I started working together at a new fresh career. It was evident from the beginning that we not only worked well with one another but there was an attraction. I was having my mail delivered to our office as my apartment was in the same building. Yes, Main Street Aspen, Colorado across from the Main Street Bakery. We often shared a revered delivery of matzo ball soup from Benjamin’s Deli or famed turkey burgers and brownies from the Silver City Grille. One particular afternoon while sorting through our mail Kathy came upon one of my lessons from the Self Realization Fellowship from Encinitas, California. She asked Nancy our secretary about it and was told that I routinely received correspondences  from there. Surprised, she confronted me and began to explain that as a young high school surfing hippie girl they used to surf at Sunset Beach. It would later in life become Swami’s Beach. They would sit out on their surf boards until almost dark and look with binoculars into the ashram, hoping to see the swamis flying around on their carpets. We laughed heartily at her youth and she said she would take me to the ashram as it was so beautiful. It was one of those promises made that you knew would probably never be fulfilled. Our working lives brought us closer together and we became romantically involved. 

A few years later, we decided to take a month off and travel the west coast from Mexico to Oregon. Somewhere along our vacation the thought occured to us that that we may never have a month off together again and that we would get married in Lake Tahoe after our pilgrimage to the ashram. Upon arriving at the ashram, we were hoping to receive a blessing concerning our plans for marriage. While walking up to Swami’s meditation bench that looks out on the Pacific Ocean, in what I consider to be the most beautiful setting in America, our miracle occurred for us. In the sand in large letters was the name Paramahansa Yogananda spelled out. I being a devoted chela of Paramahansa and Kathy, a respected admirer of his, we viewed this as a miracle blessing for our ensuing marriage. We continued on to Lake Tahoe and were wed. Over the years the blessings of Swami and the Self Realization Fellowship has brought great joy, enlightenment and wonder into our lives.

I am soon to begin a new chapter in my writing life and begin my search for an agent to assist in the publishing of my work, ‘White Dreams, The Trials of the World’s Greatest Ski Bum,’ simultaneously in America and Europe. Hopefully in time for the Olympics that will be held in Sochi, Russia in 2014. I ask humbly for the blessing of my lord Krishna, my lord Jesus Christ, Mahavatar Babaji, Lahiri Mahashiya, Swami Sri Yukteswar, Gurudeva Paramahansa Yogananda, and all Great Saints of all Religions in my endeavor. I further ask that I may succeed in climbing the sacred mountain of self realization and stand at last on the shining summit, face to face with thee, O inconceivable Spirit Divine.

I will leave with the recitation of what is considered to be the most powerful mantra known to man.                  

                                                  The Gayatri Mantra

Om Bhur Buvaha Swaha Tat Savitur Varenyam Bhargo Devasya Dheemahi Dhyo Yonaha Prachodayath.

Perhaps my new epitaph should be a quote from  Procol Harum in the song Conquistador, from the Album, A Whiter Shade of Pale.

“Conquistador your stallion stands in need of company and like some angel’s haloed brow you reek of purity. I see your armour-plated breast has long since lost its sheen.”