When I got up, it was snowing just lightly. I cooked steak and eggs for breakfast, and then drove out to go for a run in the mountains. We'd had just a tiny bit of snow over the weekend here in town, but out there everything was perfectly cased in ice, although the creeks were still running. It cast an odd sort of white light on everything.
It always pleases me to discover how quickly my endurance returns after taking even a few weeks break from running. The first time I do it again is very miserably hard, and then almost immediately, the next few times feel easier and easier. I did two miles quickly and then some exploring. I sat by a brook and got very, very cold. I keep thinking that it would be nice to have some quiet time to myself to work out some of my stupid emotions and anxieties, but when I come to such quiet places, everything slides out of my mind.
I have been having these curious, vivid dreams in the past few days. Mostly out of boredom, I've been trying my hand at interpreting them: a brand of my beloved new age bullshit I haven't dabbled in previously and clearly the errand of a totally crazy person. But I've always liked the floppy, hysterical, contradictory nature of symbolism. Forests as the unknown or as something magical and sacred, fish for semen, keys for power or self-identity, knives and aggressive wolves both fear and a perceived threat. (Everything will probably be all right.)
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