I have been aware of periods in my life when opportunities to do things, or be things are passing me by. Parenthood, something I have no strong feeling about except that it be done lovingly and mindfully is all but gone from my life's horizon. Many career choices are passed now, too.
Physically, time has put limits on me, too. I don't think I will ever pursue downhill skiing and I expect I only have--maybe--ten years left to do cross country skiing. I am done with distance running but I still love climbing the mountain overlooking our valley, and hiking. Becoming a serious writer, blocked my who life by a combination of laziness and intimidation, is still out there with the same obstacles as always. I have gone past mastery of many things.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Two types of snow shovelers
There are two types of snow shovelers. The ones who get up in the morning, or go out late at night as the snow falls, or has just stopped falling, and clear their walks, edge to edge, down to concrete.
And then there is everyone else.
"Edge to edge, down to concrete" was my father's standard. More often than I care to remember on a dark snowy morning I was awakened from teen-age slumber by him to get dressed, bundled up and sent out into the Montana winter to shovel the walks in front of our house and the walks of the church, a handsome building righteously occupying a corner lot. I would have rather slept warmly.
Today, I fiercely follow my fathers snow shoveling standard. A cleared walk in winter is a commitment to participate in both neighborhood and civilization. It is a fundamental way we take care of one another. It is how we say, "I know the going is tough through all this snow and ice, but here, where I live, I want you to have a clear, dry surface to ease your way." I have many failings but uncleared walks is not one of them.
And then there is everyone else.
"Edge to edge, down to concrete" was my father's standard. More often than I care to remember on a dark snowy morning I was awakened from teen-age slumber by him to get dressed, bundled up and sent out into the Montana winter to shovel the walks in front of our house and the walks of the church, a handsome building righteously occupying a corner lot. I would have rather slept warmly.
Today, I fiercely follow my fathers snow shoveling standard. A cleared walk in winter is a commitment to participate in both neighborhood and civilization. It is a fundamental way we take care of one another. It is how we say, "I know the going is tough through all this snow and ice, but here, where I live, I want you to have a clear, dry surface to ease your way." I have many failings but uncleared walks is not one of them.
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