Mad at the Mountains
I'm mad at the mountains. What usually fills me with wonder and praise now looks like something I'd love to see destroyed. Not really – they're still pretty beautiful. But anger and wonder can coexist. Suffering and delight. Grief and joy. So I can love looking at these mountains and still be mad at them.
Kind of like how a mother feels when her kid is bullied, and she wants to punch the bully in the face – that's kind of how I feel about the Rocky Mountains. We'll call it my “Rocky Rage.” They are beautiful, but they betrayed my kid, so I kind of want to drive up there with a front loader, and stone by stone tear…
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