Vox Montis

Time To Run - Lord Huron

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Remind Me to Tell You…


July 2014

A story.

I found myself looking through old photos from this past year. Soon, I found myself deeper into the years, feeling a bit more nostalgic, and beginning to remember stories, times and memories once forgotten. 

These stories of my own life, although trivial and surely not the most interesting among my friends and family are stories that I’m collecting, gathering and saving for a rainy day, campfire or still moment.

I’m not sure of the day I began to see life as narrative, but I can point to some moments when I was a kid sitting in my dad's pickup truck with my feet dangling because they didn't reach the floorboard yet.  George Strait played on the radio and the air vents blew a familiar smell. I would ask him to tell the story again about his dog named flip that ran on three legs, the days when he was the fastest kid in town, or how he would spend his summers playing baseball until the sun went down. 

Good stories ‘stick’ with us. We like to hear over and over again remembering them as if we were visiting an old friend.  They have a certain visceral richness that makes them real and palpable. In some instances, all we have left of someone are their stories, photos and memories.

Stories, just like most of life is better when shared.  When I tell a story, I share a part of me with you.  Just like when you choose to share your life/story with me.

I hope we never let the stories die and forget the importance of story telling in our own culture.  Often stories and ‘sharing’ of life consists of instagrams, twitter posts, or blogs

I don’t fear the end of my own story, but I fear the end of spoken word and how it has shaped each generation, including my own.  I hope we never lose the ability to tell stories like they did when our feet didn’t quite reach the ground and our finger-tips danced with the stars.

So, remind me to tell you a story sometime…

Don’t let me leave until you’ve heard them all


These Hooligans Morning Hanging out with my grandparents and their '52 Chevy

The station These boots Red Rocks

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Sia x CHVRCHES | 'The Chandelier We Share' (Mashfox Mashup) 

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Morning on Flickr.


Morning on Flickr.

“Travel isn’t always pretty. It isn’t always comfortable. Sometimes it hurts, it even breaks your heart. But that’s okay. The journey changes you; it should change you. It leaves marks on your memory, on your consciousness, on your heart, and on your body. You take something with you. Hopefully, you leave something good behind.”
—Anthony Bourdain

"I hope I never get used to this"

June Header

June 2014

300 Days of Sun.

I’ve been to the top of Colorado and back at least once this month.  June has been a great appetizer for the rest of the Summer.  It’s hard to believe June is over and July’s oncoming summer heat is waiting there for me to take it’s hand and see what our time holds. 

The great thing about Summer is that when the sun stays up longer you get the chance to see things in a different light.  The morning rise bathes the streets and streaks through my windows reminding me of the impending alarm(s). 

The sun gets a bit higher as the birds chirp louder, and warm their lungs with the air. The rest of world starts their day.  Eventually it is mid-day, and we can feel the real heat of our distant friend that we orbit.

Afternoon comes and goes, and the work day closes. To our delight the sun is still in the sky beckoning us to join her. Eventually comes the evening as the sun begins it’s descent.  Shadows grow longer, colors in the sky bloom as they steal our breath. 

There was a moment this month, right after a rainstorm that I saw the sun set over the Eastern Rockies. I audibly ‘wowed’ and said: 

"I hope I never get used to this".

The sun finally sets, and the sister moon lights the night.  


In the Summer, I don’t miss the sun as much. In my mind, I know I’ll see it soon. But in the Winter I crave it’s warmth and curse the sky when she’s gone.

I don’t always see the blessings and greatness around me, until it’s gone or missing.  I hope I never get accustom to life, become content, and forget how amazing each minute of each hour of each day IS and can be.

I’m trying to remember this again and again:

"Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy come with the morning."

Psalm 30:5b

I’m trying to remember that each morning is a joy that I hope I’ll never get used to, or forget.

Park Untitled Backseat driver

Top of Colorado Untitled Hike On

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