Jaded Rejects, No. 7: And So It Begins
Pre-season report from Mt. Shredly - 'Savor it like the pause before the roller coaster starts dropping'
Today, a young man on acid realized that all matter is merely energy condensed to a slow vibration—that we are all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively. There’s no such thing as death, life is only a dream, and we are the imagination of ourselves.
Now here’s Tom with the weather. —Bill Hicks
By The Jaded Local
This guy won Opening Day as far as I’m concerned. He was just projecting the best vibe, like he was there to ski, look good, and not give a damn. I love how skiing is such a great outlet for these secret inner characters to reveal themselves, for us to live a fantasy life for a little while, to be the imagination of ourselves. He might be a supermarket manager in Pomona, but when he goes skiing, he’s Captain Shred of the Rad Brigade.
Waxed the skis the night before, which was a mistake. Things were all of sudden very slippery. I had forgotten just how frickin fast that dang old man-made was. But I buckled down and put in the laps, trying to forget that my legs felt like twigs made of glass while I hurtled and clattered down the hill on circa ’88 green springs that have never to my knowledge actually released.
And then it all clicked: left, right, straight… wind in the face again, the sunshine bouncing off white mountains, a beautiful girl smiling next to me on the chairlift. And for the first time since Closing Day my secret identity stirred, twitched, and staggered vampirically to life again. The Jaded Local was waking up from his summer-long blackout. For the first time in months I could hear that voice in my head again, blearily demanding heli bumps and a round of doubles at the Moose… and I shut it out. He’ll have his time, but this one is for me.
The longer you stick it out in this weird ski life, the more you come to appreciate the Big Picture. Of course I love the deep days of February, the wild ride of mid-winter, but the pre-season in Mammoth is my secret girlfriend. Mid-week there’s nobody out there; they’re running this massive $300 million ski facilitation system just for you and a couple of good friends. Perfectly buffed groomers for your pleasure, empty lift lines and a sunny deck… left, right, left, right. And again.
Screw the powder, hell with all the fantasy-life heli-skiing, peak-slaying, deepest day ever stuff. Sometimes it’s the ordinary that’s the reward. On this sunny empty day in early December, I’ve got all the time in the world to ski social hot laps with friends, to smile at pretty girls, and stay right in this crystalline moment in time, to savor it like the pause before the roller coaster starts dropping and I am flung into the swirling white blur of true winter’s frenzy.
Left, right. Left, right… and it becomes increasingly clear. We are all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively. There’s no such thing as death, life is only a dream, and we are the imagination of ourselves.
If you need me I’ll be relaxing around the hill on a pair of old Super G’s and experiencing myself subjectively while condensing my energy to a slow vibration. Let’s do some laps.
Find more Jaded Rejects right here.
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