Bar Scott

Images that lift the spirit

Today there was bad news in Las Vegas, news we've almost become numb to. To counter it, my friend Doris Dembosky sent a blog filled with pictures that lifted my spirits: a blossoming sunflower, an aspen leaf turning to gold, the Sangre de Cristo Mountains covered in snow. Her email worked for me so I thought I’d spread some goodness your way in case your heart is heavy today too.

Yesterday afternoon, I watched from a distance as two herd of pronghorn (often called antelope) figured out 

The Ups and Downs

Like so many people, I suffer highs and lows. Not the clinical kind — at least that’s what I tell myself. I’m not on meds to even-out my moods. I’ve always thought I managed my low times pretty well. I have confidence that they’ll pass soon enough. And the high times are so enjoyable I’m not willing to give them up.

When I woke up this morning my shoulder hurt, my back was cranky, and the nagging voice 

Courage

There are lots of reasons for my absence these last seven months. Like so many artists, my reasons for creating anything were challenged by the election results in 2016. Many of us were asking ourselves if our work needed to be more political, less political, more about hope, less about anger, more about how to move through a world that was not the world we’d hoped for, or, if it was better if our work was left undone. In terms of this blog, the honest answer for me was better to leave it undone.             

When I don’t stay in touch, though, I miss you. I know it sounds corny, but just knowing you’re there has always done me a world of good.

A New Kind of Love

Since early November I have struggled with how and what to write. For the last seventeen years, since the inception of this blog, I’ve opted to remain apolitical believing that Love is more powerful than any message I might write about the right or wrong way to move forward politically.

            The last post I sent out included a new version of my song “Love is the Reason.” When I recorded it, I

Love is the Reason

Our Town

The last two weeks in our town have given me lots of reasons to love living here.

The New York Times, CNN TV, and US News and World Report have all done feature stories on the Darkness of our sky out here. We’ve worked hard (or our friends have worked hard) for Westcliffe, Colorado to be designated one of the world’s few Dark Skies Communities. That means we’ve committed to keeping the sky dark by minimizing the light we throw off at night. Stars are harder and harder to see in our densely populated world. Here, there is no problem (save a cloud or two) seeing all the stars you could hope for

In support of joy

My writing friend Annie Scholl is writing an article about writing for Huffington Post. A week ago she reached out to me and a few other writers with a questionnaire about our writing habits. She’d heard we don’t write everyday like so many writing coaches and teachers insist we must. She wanted to know how we feel about that. I feel strongly. I write when I feel like writing and I don’t write when I don’t feel like writing. Probably my writing suffers as a result, but that’s ok. Yes, I’d like to be better at it, but I’d also

A Post I Never Thought I'd Write

One of the things we deal with in our small town (650+ in town, 4000+ in all of Custer County) is the fact that we know each other by name, or at least by the circles we travel in. There’s the cowboy circle, the Baptist Circle, the Lutheran Circle, the Liberal circle, the rich folks (or come-here people) and the poor folks. We don’t overlap much, and there are other circles besides, but we’re aware of one another, that’s for sure.

My Gold Mine

This morning, I felt like I struck gold. I DID strike gold. As a senior citizen now I can’t keep up with all the features of any one app, like for instance, Facebook Messenger. Who knew that you had to check it to see if anyone had written you? Further, who knew that Facebook filters messages it perceives to be spam? Somehow, ancient messages from the 

Monty, Jerome, and The Present Giver.

A few weeks ago I flew back to Colorado after the Woodstock Writers’ Festival. I was tired when our plane landed in Denver. There was still another short flight to Colorado Springs and a 90-minute drive through canyons in the pitch dark after that. My visit east, as always, had exhausted me. I get filled up and drained all at the same time. So much love, a sort of overdose of love: my parents, Forrest, all the people in town who I miss or who miss me, or both. It’s a joyful tiredness, and as deep a tiredness as I feel these days. 

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