The Lion's Den: Springly Warmth

One step and you will see, the brilliance of a born again sun.

One measure and you will know, the flutter of life in branch and tepid sky.

Bustle fills the emptiness of winter past.

Water melts, deluge runs.

Spring breaths and fills us anew.

* * *

Few things make me happier than a sunny day. There is something chemical about it. My blood seems to run quick, my eyes alight, my heart flutters with the anticipation of a dynamic sway. Singing, dancing, movement—these things are all part of it. The sun bristles with volume and fills matter with the desire to come alive. It animates the winter constricted, fills and flourishes, and leaves me wondering how I survived those long snowy months (Cry freedom cry, oh Michigan, I do not lament your passing).

But oh, my beautiful village here. It stands as something all together different, where the high elevation sun shines radiantly on a warm spring day. Last Sunday was exactly this. I had just returned from an overnight stay at the DeSouchet miners cabin—a small rental property that I escape to in Dream Canyon, about a 50 min drive West of Boulder. Rustic and inviting, the small log structure sits parallel to a flowing mountain brook, where the air smells sweet of pine and wood smoke, and is the perfect place for a profound mental getaway.

On the return home, the sky was generously void of clouds and a slight warm breeze moved through town. My brother Shem sat with his girlfriend behind our house, methodically seeding summer vegetables into little plastic cups. The grill was on, sizzling, smoking, inviting long dopey stares from our overweight dog resting languidly in the grass.

A bit worn down from a night of running through the woods, I also took the lazy route, spending the early evening hours stretched out in my Brazilian hammock under the sun.

Swinging rhythmically…slowly…my face warm with the heat of direct light, I thought of all the new changes and births in my own life, as if my own path somehow mirrored the genesis of spring.

First comes a change in work. I continue to slave away at Aspen Grove. The pay remains dismal, the labor uninspiring, and my bills barely, just barely get paid. I see my presence there as a means to an end—but only just. How much bottom feeding can one do as a degree holder? I mean seriously!?

It is with these frustrations in mind that I continue to root out a career. I discovered, months back, an adolescent field known as ‘Cultural Heritage Tourism’. Essentially, it boils down to traveling to a place to experience the authentic past and contemporary life ways of a people. It emphasizes sustainability, balanced economic development, and all of the professional angles that I love—anthropology, history, travel, the poetics of people and place. It is only about a decade old, ecotourism and geotourism now falling under the umbrella term. I see so much potential for growth here. I see visions of myself - in the States and in Brazil – working to develop rich cultural programs. I feel travel and stories brimming on the surface. I see academic programs on the rise, and me in the middle of it all.

Who knows where the winds will take me. I may end up a toothless old man, tilling the soil of a back country farm plot in Brazil. Or a masquerade Chinese acrobat. Yes, who really knows?

I have started an internship, however, a small seed of a job in the Cultural Tourism field. Every Friday morning I ride the express bus into Denver, making my way down the bustling 16^th street mall. There, on the seventh floor of a large red stone Masonic building, I work in a little windowless office. I begin with the National Trust for Historic Preservation, dabbling in website changes and networking issues for the CHT program. From there, after months of payless effort, I’m hoping to grab an internship with the CHT program out of the Denver office of Tourism. This one promises part time pay, and perhaps some shining acknowledgement of my university degree.

After this…..perhaps grad school in D.C. at George Washington University (only CHT program in the whole country)…..then on into mid life crisis….kids....house….and eventually that dark unknown we like to call buzz kill. Somewhere in there I’d to stick in a bit of adventure travel, Brazilian Portuguese, and aqua maroon reef dives. Maybe some beer. We will see.

On the romance side of things, I have had tasty little development of late. Her name is hmmm….private, and the rest of her so classy. A good friend of mine in Capoeira directed my fiery mass of a universe towards hers, and I am happy to report that the blessed zingy little sparks have begun to fly. She is 34, thought probably about 22 in appearance, and one of the most intelligent and confident women I have ever known. Her demeanor is one of cool delicious power, slightly aloof, with heavy dashes of playful femininity. A life long dancer and yoga guru, she resides remarkably present and comfortable in her body, knowing full well the power of her magnetism. More palpable than this physical grace, she is delightfully skilled at making me feel like a man, challenging me to be authentic in my personality and masculinity. So refreshing after the underdeveloped bubble heads that have been sucking up to me of late.

And so it is, in both work and love do the renewals of spring come. Much is going to happen, I feel, with the advent of this warmer weather. I’ve been down and out with a back injury, and hope to heal and get back to the Capoeira. I am rigidly setting myself on a more tattoos/more muscle diet, and hope to generate further growth in these areas soon. July brings adventure in Europe, and a month long Brazilian vaca later in the year. My good friend Sheila is coming to visit and Eric is beginning to ready himself for a Denver move (I operate under the principle that if you blog it, they will come).

All of this. The job, the romance, the car washes, and tree blossoms, the motorcycle rides and campouts, will bud, and bristle, and in their spring breathe life anew.