tmbt: quiet air
Tonight, I drove up the canyon for a rehearsal in a mountain home tucked back in the pines. I hadn’t driven up out of Boulder for awhile, so was so happy to remember the cool air, the evening light through the trees, and the soft, resonant sound of the expanse mingling with the beautiful smell of evergreen and clarity. It just hovers and rises, this air, this old, fresh, wise air. It is well-believed that breathing at higher altitude is harder because the air is less dense. It’s true, but I think they forget to say that it is also because that lightness lends a quietude to the air that makes for a more peaceful breath, a precious blessed and blessing breath that needs to be savored and so is less readily gobbled in.