Here we are in January and we haven't had December yet.  A lack of snow means that Elm Creek's 2.5 K man-made loops are the only game in town for cc skiers.  In the whole state of Minnesota, really.  The white roller coaster of trails teems with swiftly moving figures as graceful as a cotillion in a Currier & Ives print.  Through morning mist or transiting nimbus after nimbus of golden trail lamp, you carve your passage like a feather escorted on the wind.  And that's the trouble.  The word “escorted.”  Whether you like it or not, you are part of a massive orchestration involving hundreds of skiers, snowboarders and tubers daily/nightly.  For most of them this is a wonderful socializing opportunity.  Not so moi.  It's not that I don't appreciate the bonding, the recognition and the virtual onslaught of kind interactions.  It's that I miss the silent commune and serene commute into isolation where I can talk to nature on its own terms with no people façades, no conventions, pretensions or conformities.  Alas, that's who I am.

You're not weeping for me, right?  Rejoice.  You're normal.  I'm missing a gene.  Or maybe I have one too many.  All the same, I wish you inspirations and enlightenments in your equivalent settings.  Perhaps your soul is set ablaze at a quiet kitchen counter watching the morning sun play off the ice on a lake, or your sense of well-being finds safe harbor each time you hear your children's unfettered laughter, or your circuit board is lit up by a relationship in the evenings, or pillow talk merges with intimacy and then passion in the arms of the love of your life every night.  That's the way the script is written.  Play it as it lays.  Lies.  Yeah, I know, you transitive/intransitive grammarians will take me task whichever way I say it, but, um…“lie” spins the wrong connotation.  I’m talking lifestyles, not lie-styles.  You KNOW what I mean.

I'm not very politically correct.  Seems to me, when you believe in everyone else's values, you lose your own.  If everyone has it right, what's the point?  That said, I like to think I'm pretty broad-minded, empathetic, sympathetic and all about possibilities rather than impossibilities.  There are universal truths that are self-evident (a priori) and there are values that only serve the agendas of man.  We like to pretend the two -- truths and values – are the same in our lives.  But they aren't.  In fact, they are as immiscible as oil and water.  Truths can’t be faked or serve an ulterior purpose.  Values may start out as truths and look good up on the marquee of social approval, but they tend to dwindle into façades that manipulate and lock-down someone’s controlling interests.  Worse, they often gang up in one-size-fits-all herds and intimidate individuals.  Separating the two, at least within your heart of hearts, is beyond the grasp and will of most people and not worth their trouble.  After all, it's a lot safer and convenient to hunker down in the brush than to stand out.  Lightning strikes the tall tree first.  But for me there is no choice.  If I can't be honest within myself and keep faith with the truths I discover, then life is not a journey and I might as well be inanimate, an empty clearing to the side of the road with dust for brains and a stone for a heart.  I want the journey.  Whatever created me expects no less.  No trendy shortcuts, no sterile detours…just the magic of reaching for the horizon along one trail or another.  I write my own life script, and the genre is romantic idealism.  

My column over on StorytellersUnplugged this month starts out: "If something has to be kept secret, it must be true.  Secrets are self-proving.  Lies are loud and wear red hats…"  The focus this time is on blindness and how to "see" past it as a writer and a person.  You can read the rest at  http://storytellersunplugged.com/thomassullivan/2012/01/15/thomas-sullivan-segami-rorrim/.

Photos below begin with three night-ski shots that show why I often compare Elm Creek with the movie "Avatar" for its velvet magic & purple majesty.  Doc Foto sent #4 – claiming it is an attack ad on my politics!  The next five Christmas morn photos are: two of my boy-child, Shane lad (yeah, that's his dog’s chew-toy present he's gumming in the second shot), then my beloved Norby Nation, the family that adopted me, followed by me opening a present, followed by Santa with his finger stuck in a bowling ball.  Finally, this month's Blast from the Past photos include my dear departed friend, rodeo cowboy Fred Bean, who left this planet far too early but left nothing on the table in terms of an exciting and eventful life.  Fred is the grandson of history’s famous Hanging-Judge Roy Bean out of Texas.  We were instant brothers when we met in Arkansas and fair to say we’ve been the entertainment at many a gathering and through countless adventures thereafter.  The photo with the sheep is from an album cover I'd like to explain -- I WISH I could explain – but you had to be there…

I'll be traveling to Idaho and Oregon again late this winter.  Going to ski in the Sawtooth Mountains with my friend Bruce who lives on a small ranch outside Sun Valley.  Whatever the snow conditions, I have some brand-new skis fitted and prepped by the acknowledged Grand Master of all ski gurus anywhere.  Brian Knutson, co-owner of Gear West along with Jan Guenther, has added inspiration to my skiing for over a decade now.  Brian has the touch of a magician and the wisdom of a lifetime in his art.  In every worthwhile craft there is a consummate master whose eyes light up when he senses that you will appreciate the magic.  That's Brian.

Is your new year off to a sprint?  May you seize every moment of life to be the fullest you.  Your mind, your heart, your soul are three sanctuaries from which you can set out on a true path.  Let words and deeds be your footprints.

Thomas “Sully” Sullivan
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