I worry about my son.  I thought that when my children were grown I could stop worrying but that is not the case, even though I know that worrying does no good.  He's not happy.  His criminal past hangs over him, dogging him.  I feel bad for him but he also refuses to see reality.  I suggested a course of action for him and he refused.  I suppose that's all I can do. 

I'm no different.  I often have a hard time with reality, like to bang my head against the wall, hoping for a different outcome that never comes.  Perhaps most of us are like that.  Maybe I'm not the only one.

The big guy and I spent a few days I the mountains.  It was damp and rainy.  I had a minor meltdown, stomped my feet and pouted.  I wanted certain things to happen.  I wanted to be in control.  As usual, I was not.  The universe intervened.  I was forced to slow down, find alternatives, challenge myself.  Things did not go as planned and as I result I got this lovely shot above. 

I obviously still struggle with letting go.  I still believe I can bend the world to fit my view.  It's not happening.  I learn.  I forget.  I relearn.  I reforget.  Dammit!  I forget to breathe, forget to let go, forget to be. 

The mountains help me to remember how small I really am, how little impact I have over anyone beyond myself and my own breath.