Summary

An individual reflects on life, self, and the unimportance of daily musings while embracing the tranquility of mountain living and the routine of writing, reading, and dog walking.

Abstract

The narrative captures a moment in the life of a writer who has secluded himself in a mountain home to contemplate existence and the trivialities of life. He finds solace in the daily ritual of watching the sunrise, listening to the birds, and walking his dogs, all while absorbing the world through a diverse array of news outlets. His contemplations are both personal and philosophical, touching on the complexity of self-identity and the serenity that comes with acceptance of the past. The writer grapples with the question of "who am I" amidst the backdrop of nature's beauty and the creative process of writing.

Opinions

The writer values the tranquility and inspiration provided by his mountain surroundings.
He appreciates the fresh start that each day offers and views it as an opportunity for personal growth.
The writer holds a high regard for investigative journalism and stays informed through various publications.
He considers Arizona's current political climate, particularly the Arizona Republican Party, to be a national embarrassment.
The writer believes in the importance of mental and physical exercise, emphasizing the significance of maintaining a healthy heart and soul.
He finds music to be an essential component of his creative routine, with preferences for artists like Bob Dylan, Pink Floyd, and The Who.
The writer reflects on his past struggles with depression, acknowledging the positive impact of treatment and medication on his current perspective.
He views the question of self-identity as inherently complex and ongoing, with writing as a tool to better define, though not necessarily answer, the question of "who am I."
The writer acknowledges the value of time in addressing complex questions and in the creative process, allowing his work to rest before revisiting it for rewrites.

“Who the F**k are You?

Contemplating Self, Life, and Unimportant Things— From the Mountain

Watching the Sunrise…

… is always a good omen. At the very least it means we are still alive to start a new day, a new beginning, with all the wonders that may entail.

He sat still, in silence, gazing out the window of his ‘office’ before sunrise. Just a writing desk really, placed at one end of the living room where the dual glass, French doors allowed him to view the sunrise over the distant mountains to the east.

It’s February, but the doors were open so he could hear the birds in the morning. This is why they moved, to be here at this time, in this place. It has not disappointed.

Winter has been an odd season and certainly not one he had become acclimated to living in the Arizona desert. Sitting quietly, listening to the birds, while watching for the family of deer that grace the back of the property every morning had now become the morning routine.

The local TV and radio station is calling for snow next Monday. Not good. A few weeks ago when there was just a couple of inches of snow, that was enough to keep the trusty old Chevy Avalanche (biggest, heaviest, and most comfortable half-ton Chevy pickup ever made) from climbing up the mountain gravel road to his house.

More snow? Not good. Not good at all.

Sitting in the still quiet of the morning, a foggy mist encompassing the surrounding mountains, he contemplates his life. When there is nothing important to say, this is similar to contemplating one’s naval. If it may be viewed through the dense fog of course.

Every Day is the First Day…

…to the rest of our lives. This is the time God has given us to start fresh, a clean slate, and a chance to show we have learned from the mistakes of yesterday.

The sun has peaked over the mountains now. Topping off his cup of coffee, turning on some background music, and settling back in at his desk signals the start of the day. ‘Romeo’, the three-year-old, ferocious guard dog slowly settles into his favorite position in his lap and promptly goes to sleep. Romeo is a 6 pound Yorkshire Terrier.

An avid reader, the next couple of hours are spent perusing the Wall Street Journal, The Daily Beast, NY Times, Arizona Republic, Mother Jones, Rolling Stone, and a few more. So many subscriptions. Some people keep up with the Joneses… he keeps up with the world around him. Much less expensive, far more interesting.

Among these, The WSJ and Daily Beast are favorites, as are these:

Rolling Stone it turns out is quite the surprise. Do ‘Boomers’ who grew up reading Rolling Stone 50 years ago know of Rolling Stone's in-depth and well-written investigative journalism today? “Highly doubtful” comes to mind.

The Arizona Republic, home to some very good investigative journalism, is a must-read to keep up with the insanity of Arizona, once home for the past 46 years. Now a national embarrassment, Arizona and the Arizona Republican Party house the largest collection of wackadoodles in this country.

Exercising the Mind and the Heart…

… is an exercise of the 2 most important parts of one’s body, an exercise in maintaining one’s heart and soul.

These are dangerous times. Minus a warning, these guys occasionally fail to make it out the door. Both dogs, no barking, no whining, now sit at the front door. Time to walk the dogs. This daily exercise routine is fast walking up a long, climbing hill, down the other side, and a jog back up again.

These walks along our single-lane gravel and dirt road are quiet and peaceful providing time to reflect, to think. This has been a routine for over three months and seems to be working. The doc approves. And no heart attacks yet. This is good.

Tuesday Afternoon

“Something calls to me. The trees are drawing me near. I’ve got to find out why…”

Back at the home office, music for thinking and writing is required. Maybe Bob Dylan's “Blood on the Tracks”? Pink Floyd’s “Meddle”? A decision looms.

Relaxed in his writing chair and Romeo back in his lap, topics filter through his mind. And then an old tune by The Who brings a smile. Initially banned from the radio when it was clear what the song’s lyrics were asking, it struck as being a relevant question still today.

That lyric got him thinking about his past. Once depressing, the past is now for stories. Treatment for depression and his “happy pills” now enable the past to come more easily, without the sadness weighing so heavily on the mind.

The Complexity of Contemplation

Sitting at his desk he ponders again the question from earlier… “who am I”? (Please note the cleaner language used here as I already have your attention, as did The Who.)

This is a complicated question most all of us try to answer at some point in life. It remains complicated to this day. Yet he begins to write. a couple of hours later, he’s done. Kind of. The question remains unanswered but is now better defined.

It’s now dark outside. Another day draws to an end. The temperature drops quickly, far faster than the sun now dropping behind the mountains. The ensuing darkness is … well … see for yourself. It's as if someone had spilled a bottle of black ink, covering an old photo of the surrounding landscape of mountain forests, flowers, and grassland.

As always, his writing is allowed time to rest for a few hours. Clarity and purpose come with time and thought. Tomorrow a rewrite (this never fails), and maybe more. Such is life for this writer on the Mountain.

Maybe before, during, or after the next story, an answer to “Who the f**k are you?” will surface. It is truly a hard question to answer you know. It will take time. But then, time is all we all have for such complexities.