03-16-2015 Newsletter

If you’ve never skied blue moonbeams consider your bucket list incomplete. Imagine God using Walt Disney to paint you into the deep woods at midnight, a fiery figure on silver skis carving through crystal snow. You glide the unknown at breakneck speed, slashing waves of stars off your edges as you run a grand slalom of silhouetted trees. All creatures large and small freeze at your passing, knowing that your swift journey is a divine mandate and that you are blessed by the winter moon. Pure energy bathes your path and joy is potent in your soul. The sweet sting of dreams-come-true burns in your blood as you breathe ether and exhale triumph! And when it is over, you stand clad in neon, steaming and pulsing in the afterglow. It is the closest you’ll ever come to cosmic magic without abandoning the magic of Earth.

That’s what I’ve been doing for the last month. True, the snow has been stingy. Still, when you know how to get there, a sanctuary is always possible. I may not know much, but I do know the way to magical moments in inner sanctums of my choosing.

There. That brief winter rapture is for the people who worry that I might become sane or normal. Many readers got in touch over last month’s Sullygram, either thanking me for reaching out to those who follow blueprints, maps and protocols or concerned that I might be backing away from idealism and my romantic view of life. No chance for the latter! I’m a lifer. Sometimes I offend laid-back readers without meaning to just by celebrating energy and freedom, but my Valentines last month were just to let friends and fans know that I appreciate people of every stripe, no matter what they imagine their walls to be made of or where they set their horizons. 

The most difficult people for me to grasp are those who for a brief time in their life seize the courage and passion to live their romantic ideals but then retreat or become cynical. A perfect example of that is in the Q&A of my latest archived column, CPR FOR WHACK-A-MOLES that you can read here: http://www.storytellersunplugged.com/2015/02/15/thomas-sullivan-cpr-for-whack-a-moles/#respond

Watching the seasons change so dynamically as I bike/hike/kayak/snowshoe/ski/swim through nature’s torrents and truces brings home the need for people of every type from restless to settled. I think it keeps the world stable. You could separate everyone by politics, religion or gender, and you would still see them divide again into adventurers and homesteaders, idealists and pragmatists, discoverers and dogmatists. It’s nature. It’s balance at every level from republics to relationships. As I recently wrote on FB, people who wait for life to give them the choice between the ideal and the commonplace don’t realize that by waiting they’ve just made their choice. Waiting is a vacuum. Nature abhors a vacuum, and so does mediocrity. Both will fill it every time. Or to put it another way, romantic idealism is a hybrid with the first half coming out of you so that the second half can come to you.

Wish I wasn’t too busy enjoying the moments to take more photos, but below are a few pics that capture a range of recent outings: #1-3 first Crow-Hassan hike this year; #4 Peter, Bruce & Teri of Norby Nation on a memorable afternoon; #5-7 Doc Foto and his wife Karen’s glorious environs taken with a real camera instead of my cell phone; #8-9 my all-weather trail friend Mickey; #10 a bullsnake who left early when he found out there weren’t any toasted marshmallows; #11-12  2nd Annual Nearly Naked Snowball Fight – still healing my bruised arm (note to self: snowball fights henceforth will be held during angel fluff snowstorms)…

For all friends of water polo guru, humanitarian, Olympic torch carrier, author and Hall of Famer Chuck Hines, after a brief illness Chuck has passed on. He showed thousands how to live and his legacy will continue to do so.

March has a couple of super-charged anniversaries for me – one high holy day and another of magical portents – and after that I’ll chase winter wherever it goes. To my Irish fans & friends, “Erin go Bragh!” …P.S. everyone is Irish on St. Patty’s day.


Thomas "Sully" Sullivan

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