Wednesday, December 13, 2017

Frozen Tracks

Exiting the Eastern door this morning, I was grated by my barefoot tracks. They were frozen in the slushy snow now turned to ice. Remnants of last evenings sojourn outside to breathe, they drew my attention back to the wonder of tracks.

Captured in the ice were remnants of me; how I walked in the ice last night, on my toes to avoid as much of the chill as possible, where I walked, straight out to the screen house and back, and when I walked, before it was cold enough for the slush be freeze into this morning's ice.

But there is a wider arc contained in these tracks. These tracks, combined with all the tracks I have ever set down through my steps and my actions, connect back to the beginnings of me. And the tracks of the beginnings of me connect back to the beginnings of everything. My beginnings connect back to my parents and their beginnings. Those tracks connect back to their parents and on and on back to the beginnings of everything. My tracks in the ice also connect forward to me, right here, right now.


I appreciate this reminder of my connection back to the beginnings that link to me now. Today, I will be mindful of the tracks I leave today and what they reflect about my intentions for living, and how they manifest what I hold dear.

Tuesday, December 12, 2017

Snow Feel

The view that greeted me as I walked out the Eastern door this morning looked like a black and white photo. The light was not yet bright enough to bring color to the land. In the dimness, the only way I could tell it was snowing was by feeling the flakes on my face. This got me thinking about the importance of paying attention to all my senses. My eyes did not know it was snowing, neither could I smell the snow.


Today, I will be paying attention to how all of my scenes inform me about the world around me. I'll do my best to avoid the illusions created when I rely only on a few.

Monday, December 11, 2017

No Wind

It took me a while this morning to notice that the wind wasn't blowing. It got me thinking about the importance of notice what isn't as much as what is. It's easy for assumptions to keep me from noticing what isn't happening around me.


Today, I will be paying as much attention to what is absent as what is present.

Sunday, December 10, 2017

Snow Light

The snow covers up the skylights, but I notice that it is still a bright morning. It's because of the reflected light from the snow on the ground and hanging on the trees. In fact, on days like today, light seems to be everywhere. This gets me thinking about balance. No matter how dark things can get, there is always light somewhere. It's just up to me to keep my eyes open so I can see it.

Friday, December 8, 2017

Cold Air

The cold morning air and thoughts of the coming storm distract me from the moment I am in. Thoughts about keeping the cabin warm remove me from what I am doing; sitting and breathing.

In this moment, I can not control the fires I will make in the coming days, and there will be no moment in which I can control the size and effects of the storm.


So I return to what I am doing. I breathe in, and I breathe out. Now I am typing. That is what I am doing. That is what I can control. The rest will have to take care of itself.

Thursday, December 7, 2017

What Do We Do?

There is a tremendous amount of sadness and confusion in the cabin as my children learn that one of their musical inspirations has been accused of rape. They don't know what to do in response.

This question of how to respond gets me thinking, “In order to achieve what?”

As we continue to muddle through what seems to be a particularly complex part of our cultural history, I plan to use this question as an aid to keep my responses as thoughtful and intentional as possible.