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This is a close up of a oil piece "Normality in Excess" I'm feeling kinda stuck. Any advice? Oops! Sorry for the double post. 
My heart pounding viciously against my sternum was the bass line to the melodic oscillating squeaks of the chairlift’s tired old wheels. The drone of its engine was playing snare while distant bellows of wind racing through frozen trees emanated the fife. I enjoyed this sacred hymn with utter glee; each bar was a wave of pure excitement drowning me in ecstasy. As I was suspended in my sanctuary, I graciously thanked each individual snowflake as it shivered down to earth. Though unaccompanied, I shared the warm glow of companionship with the deserted landscape. I felt small compared to my friend, but not deterred in the least.
The meditative journey of the chairlift ride was a therapy that could not be trumped by any formal procedure. The sight of the lift’s end snapped me out of my state of nirvana, my feeling of Zen quickly subdued to a longing for freedom from my prison of gold. I felt like a bird whose cage hung by an opened window. As I lifted the safety bar I experienced the same liberation as it being freed from its cage. I dropped from the chair onto the snowy ground. The inertia of its crawling movement transferred to me, weightlessly gliding me through the dry, powdery snow. As I drifted away the psalm of the chairlift grew faint.
I rode deeper and deeper towards my destination. The thought that I would soon experience something that almost exclusively existed in dreams was a blanket of comfort thick as the snow. I picked up speed at the same rate as my heartbeat out of excitement. At long last, I arrived. Though I had been in the location not long ago, under such perfect circumstances it was utterly new and uncharted. The snow incrusted trees stood like ghostly soldiers, wind occasionally sweeping chunks of them into the vast depths of the ravine. I stood at the woods’ edge in awe and soaked in the true perfection. Talc-like snow, cold sharp air, and solitude; this was my domain.
My first turns were giddy and overexcited, like a kid on Christmas morning who’s been counting days since June. I then turned sharply, redirecting my course to ski laterally down the mountain parallel to its ravine. Riding down the steep of the ravine was exhilarating; the dodging of trees pumped my adrenaline into interstellar overdrive. I reached the bottom of the ravine but used my momentum to pump up its reflecting side. I turned aggressively, slashing an abundance of snow air bound. It batted the trees heavily, plummeting the snow delicately carried on their backs to the ground. Using the natural halfpipe-esque formation of the ravine to my power I aired out of the opposing side, tweaking my skis inward. I utilized this speed to carry me through a plateau and onward to the headwall. The wind direction had worked to my convenience depositing drifts of snow between the narrowly spaced trees. I darted between the gaps full tilt. My skis surfed through the snow. I felt a boundless sense of euphoria when the knee deep snow deepened to my chest, splashing my face at the apex of each turn.
I arrive at the base of the mountain to an eerily non-existent line. Although it may seem as though it is all over, this is only my first lap. To any self respecting ski-bum, it’s days like this that are the antidote to the human condition. Accomplished, I proceed to pole-push my way to the loading line. As I prepare to reenter my golden cage, the psalm of the chairlift accompanies me once again.
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