posted by Sandy Fails 0 comments

April weather in Crested Butte is tough most years, but I think it’s worse now that I’m an occasional Facebooker. Every time I check in, I see my so-called “friends” posting photos of bare skin and beaches. I also witness the coping mechanisms employed by those who, like me, are not planning an off-season vacation. There’s partying, praying, and plying humor (like Rosie Catmur’s inquiry about whether the Easter bunny has snowshoes)

There are psychological tools like relativism. Some recent Florida emigrants pointed out that in their old neighborhood it’s a sticky 95 degrees and rising, so why are we whiny-babies grousing about putting on a little jacket? And it’s true: Crested Butte doesn’t have suicide bombers, malaria, pit vipers or murderous dictators. Compared to those things, what’s the big deal about a few million snowflakes?

Personally, I’m using this soggy April to exercise my new “life as a spiritual practice” philosophy. My husband has mentioned doing a Vipassana retreat, in which silence and eventually the physical discomfort of sitting in meditation become the catalysts for transcendence. I think we can save the time and money. I don’t need to sit in discomfort or traipse across hot coals or suffer bodily mutilations to practice transcendence over my earthly woes. Another week of this April weather should do the job.