Life post-Bear

Postcard from Eleanor, sent to me during life pre-bear.

A bear lent me a new life.  

Or at least, a more frenzied love of being alive than I generally tote around.  And, generally, I've always been pretty much enamored with it.  The mystery of it all!  The surprises!  The way things look!  Helping! Loving!  Losing! Winning! Feeling! Breathing!  My second wind, magic at 33...my life post-bear.

I was walking with my Aunt at twilight on a visit to Colorado last month.  Just off the mountain road there was a field that resembled Auronzo (the small Italian town nestled beneath the Alps where my mom and her sister come from)...its wildflowers; their scattered colors and hints of shape.  And then there was the Bear.  Crazy.  Beautiful.  Terrifying.  Shoulders so round.  Curves in general, no hard lines, an inquisitive look.  Massive and rooted.  Quite simply not to be believed.

Long walk uphill with heartbeats soaring.

Hands held and waiting.

The Bear let us pass.

Historically I'm a night owl; a bona fide art-making-idea-having insomniac.  But that night I was giddy.  Feverish with notes and thoughts.  I decided then to take even more risks than I normally do.  I decided then to do some things I never thought I'd do.  This blog is one of those things.

Thanks, Bear. I owe you one.