Bill called me to see if we were still on for skiing tomorrow on his day off. With the calendar telling me its April and the snow receding quickly, this was to be our last day out on the mountain. I punched up the forecast while we were on the phone, and the little weather icon for the next day was a big raindrop.  

Skiing in the rain — like camping in the rain — does not usually lend itself to many smiles. As I read deeper into the forecast, it said that the rain would likely hold off until 3PM. I really wanted to ski one more time, so what the hell… let’s do it.  I told Bill I’d meet him for breakfast the next morning at our regular spot.

I awoke to a wonderful sunrise — ha! what do those weather people know? — packed my things and headed over the mountain to meet my friend. As my truck reached the top of the hill and I looked north toward the ski mountain, the sky was dark and full of heavy clouds. (Score one for the forecasters.)

I was suprised at how cold it was when we arrived at the mountain. Usually at this time of year I can ski in a light fleece, but today would require winter gear. The top of the mountain was hidden in fog and the lower mountain was full of large patches of brown grass and exposed rock. With the conditions and the forecast, there were only about 25 other cars in the parking lot. As we gathered our gear, Bill looked at me with a smile and said, “I’m not sure what I got you into here Drew!”

I laughed and assured him we were going to have a great day despite the mounting evidence that pointed to the contrary. 

As the gondola dropped us off at the top of the lonely mountain, there were more laughs as lazy clouds made for about 20 feet of visibility. Pea soup. Still, the rain was holding off and our first run down the mountain gave us reason to remain optimistic about the day. The snow was soft and hey, skiing is like pizza — even when it’s bad, it’s still pretty good.

When we met at the chairlift, we were in agreement. 

“Not bad, eh?” we said to one another. 

We had set the tone for our day. It would fun, despite any circumstances that were to arise (Bill also forgot his ski jacket, but he just shrugged it off as I lent him an extra layer).

In my mind, I was contrasting this experience with someone else I had shared a chairlift with earlier in the season. Without realizing it, this person was a fountain of complaints. His knee hurt. His boots were too tight. The lift was too slow. And so on…

The stories he told might have been true, but you know what? No one wanted to hear them. We all know that no one likes a complainer… it’s negative energy. The real trick is monitoring yourself for these highly unattractive thoughts.

Look for the vibrational essence in what you speak and write. If the essence of the story does not feel good, why not choose something better? And yes, sometimes you have to ignore the “truth” in the present moment and place your attention outside your current circumstances.

It started to rain a few times while we were skiing. But Bill (wearing only a sweater that would absorb this moisture) never complained and I followed his example. We focused on how we had the whole mountain to ourselves and how great it was to be outside. In a few moments, the rain stopped.

We spend five hours on the mountain, skiing until we could ski no more. We never saw the sun peek through the clouds. 

As we got into the car, bidding the mountain farewell for another eight months, the skies opened up with rain. And as I sat back reflecting on my ski day this year — some wonderful powder days, and days full of bright sunshine — I thought that this day will go down as my favorite.