I skied with Becki.  We threw snowballs.  We sang.  We “shot” each other while she chased me in a game of cops and robbers.  When Becki “chases” me I can get her to turn more and snowplow less.  We made up a rap song on the lift.  We traded places while Becki played the “instructor.” She was pretty serious about her instructions and I thought I’d come up with a good idea until she gleefully shot past me and took off down the hill “to show me how its done.”   We snowplowed (lots).  We laughed and hugged…and hugged and laughed.  Then I filled the routine report, snuck out of the hut without engaging the staff and trudged across the mud to my truck where I broke out in tears and cried my way down to the highway.

Lordy. 
My innards have been a mess of gloppy goo.  Alas gloppy goo is better than hardened cement.  I visited with my dear sweet smart kind and caring surgeon earlier in the week and was assured the emotional swings and deep depression are common in women who have undergone recent hysterectomies.  Of course somehow I thought I would be different than most and am shocked at the depth and length of darkness and emotions.  I can say that rising above the muck for someone like Becki is worth the energy it takes to muster my gumption.  The day on the slopes volunteering for Eagle Mount and skiing with Becki was a good thing and the tears…?…well …just part of my healing process. 
Encouragement, support and compassion from close friends have me humbled and grateful.  Some days it  feels like I’m slipping on a loose scree slope where a steady hand and safe belay make all the difference.   Luckily I have incredible friends who understand.  I’m awkward at best while learning to open and receive.  What a journey. 
Eagle Mount is a volunteer program to provide quality recreational activities for people with mental and physical disabilities.  See past posts about other great (and tearless) Becki ski days.

“What a BEAUTIFUL day,” I said looking up at the Bridger Mountains from the chairlift where I sat next to Becki.  “I am so glad to be here.”

“YES!!” she shouted triumphantly.  “I am so glad to be here.  Do you know where we would be if we weren’t here?  Guess where we would be.  Do  you know where we would be?”

“Where would we be?”

“We would be STUCK.  Stuck.  We would be stuck like a window chewing up the walls” Becki said.

I repeated her statement.  She repeated her statement.  “Chomp chomp” I said with a grin.  Becki’s eyes were barely visible behind goggles; the helmet with yellow lightning stickers matched her jacket stained like a child’s bib down the front of her giggling jiggling body. 

I sat next to this mentally disabled being, our feet dangled below the chairlift above the white snow slopes.  The image of a window occupied my mind.  Clean.  Clear.  The wonderfully pale blue wall crumbled like a cookie as the window made loud destructive satisfying chewing sounds.   Sunlight beamed  through crystal clean glass.  How wonderful to share the lift with this special gleeful person. 

Each Thursday I ski with Becky as a volunteer for the Eagle Mount program.   Time with her on the mountain is a gift that charges my heart with energy even while my healing body struggles to keep up with the physical effort.  The image of the wall-eating-window has stuck with me and I wonder…

…perhaps being an artist is a bit like being that window.

I’m curious – do you think being an artist is like being a window that chews up the walls?