Note to a Friend
I trust you’re happily back in warmer climes, having accomplished all your Colorado missions.
I’m still on the living room floor, making daily progress on perfecting my ceiling.
You asked a question early on in your visit—one which has had lasting effects. And that was about my use of spirulina drinks these days. As I said then, real food is now the focus of my daily meals. But, oddly (meaning, not at all), in the weeks since then, I came to recognize that my gut function was relatively suddenly going down the tubes—so to speak. And your comments reminded me of spirulina’s remarkable ability to, almost adaptogenically, correct errant gut function.
One day last week, a desire to revisit that ability manifested. Just one day. The results were, as they always are, amazing. And very satisfying. To the point that I’ve incorporated an afternoon drink which includes two tablespoons of spirulina nearly every day since then. Remarkable stuff.
I’ll probably drift away from such regular use—or at least reduce the frequency—once I sense reaching a steady state of balanced gut health. After all, spirulina is very cooling, and we are in the dead of winter. But I thought I’d share that, and say thank you for the reminder.
Saturday evening I anticipated an exceptionally warm and windless day coming on Sunday, and proposed to Sue a hike in the southern end of the Manzanos. She eagerly accepted, and we experienced probably the finest day we’ve had in these mountains. Sublime. Not something I could easily give form to, but exquisite and perfect in ways words and photographs cannot capture, and in what is becoming my favorite, easily accessible (40 minutes), wilderness area. Once elevation is gained (we did about 2000’ of climbing Sunday), the views out to the south are stunning. It seems as if much of the southern part of the state is stretched out endlessly before thirsty eyes. Seeing those kinds of uninterrupted distances, void of signs of humanity, has always been very satisfying to me, and becomes more so now.
I’m sure you’re getting lots of those now as well. As the inward gaze increasingly witnesses the infinite expanse of eternity, days like Sunday are particularly gratifying outer reflections of that growing reality. Even the faint, yet thunderous sound of enormous, unseen, railway diesel engines straining in the distance up the grade to Abo Canyon and wafting over the crest of the range, seems perfectly appropriate.
Thanks for the nudge,
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