The Snow Bag

The snow bag is just as important as the sun bag. Indeed, the sun lives inside the snow and so bagging it is a double whammy. And today, it came and went as if it were a migrating bird just passing through. And I bagged it, all of it! This is what the shamanic cyclist does: he gathers and hunts, not animals but his Self. He does this by collecting and re-collecting the elements. Through this process transmutation occurs. Man becomes transfigured by the elemental. His insides become transformed by the outside. Joy emerges through hardship and the trudge. Through space and through vision.

You could be anywhere. I like to think I'm up in the Pacific Northwest what with the gangly trees here. A beautiful little ridge path that no-one walks because of other more popular routes. This lack of people too adds to the quality of the path.

From Kilpatrick train station looking at the hump I've just gone up 'n over. The route is more or less from centre right to centre top (through the forested part just below the top). It took me about 90mins. (less time than a shit movie) from the train station and back again. 

And as if by magic, I arrive back at the train staion just as the train is pulling in, and, yes, I do not wear a watch. When you join forces with the Earth, with the elements and the animals, time dissolves into the body, so that now your walking is a sort of timing, in tune and in harmony with the All.

And finally, as if to end the perfect morning, I see that the old job centre in Herschell Street, my old stomping ground, has finally been pulled down... ('Job' is short for 'jobby', didn't you know that?)