The cresta run

I am at an art event watching a film made by an artist of a cresta-run (the winter sport where people propel themselves at very fast speeds down a tunnel of ice in a bullet shaped vehicle) - she has mounted a camera on the front of the vehicle.

She sets off at a steady pace, but quickly builds up, faster and faster...

We now see her from overhead (and I realize it is ME) and the containing tunnel of ice has disappeared, she is careering out of control on open mountainside with little control of her direction.

She approaches a sheer scree face (one might say a cliff!) coming at it horizontally from the snow field above. The momentum of her speed takes her perilously across the scree face and it seems miraculous that she does not just fly off into the air.

Just as she arrives at the other side of the scree onto safer ground, we see an avalanche behind her and as she looks back, she knows that she crossed just in time to avoid the crushing ice, rocks and snow.

I look at her / me and think "wow, how spectacular, what a brave feat!" but in the back of my mind a voice also nags "but is it really? Is it not just foolhardy? She seems a brave adventurer, but I am not so sure about the core motivation of her activity, whether it is really sound...?"

Later on I am looking at a photo of her on a living room wall; next to it is the photo of a handsome man. The pictures are both kept in beautiful silver frames and each has a swirling motif rather like a shell.

I understand that he/me/she/they are married and very happy, they radiate contentment and bliss beyond the silver frames and there is something deeply beautiful about this.