I stepped outside and into my skis. I needed to clear my head. A lot of tired nights with a sick little one wear on your head and your mind and most importantly what matters most. I find days spent endlessly tired and just making sure everyone is happy leave me ragged and grumpy. So as the storm raged in my head, I could feel the things rearing, I knew the only answer was to get outside to the howling of the wind from this wild winter storm we have gotten. I felt that if a storm was ragging in every area I needed to find the place of purpose and calm. The best was within the meditative movement of my skis.
At first I was frustrated with the deep snow that reached to nearly my knees, but then, I looked down and laughed about its analogy to life. Here I was carving my own path through this beautiful layer of snow. It was hard and took way more effort then the skiing I was doing even this last weekend. The weight of the snow over my skis made it feel impossible to move. I had a hard time finding where my skis were in order to keep them in line with one another. But as I just focused on feeling them under the snow the best I could and moving a tiny bit forward little by little, I was amazed at how far I was going even in the tiredness it was causing.
When I looked behind me over the field where I just crossed and through my snowy goggles, I saw a path, a clear path that I had made. It led me home and it meant a smoother and clearer way when I found myself heading that way again.
Then I thought about the last few days as I kept slowly gliding away under the inches of snow. Oh how tiring it has been, but I know in my heart it ends. I know what to trust, when to worry, what to do, and where to turn if I don’t. I know that normal will resume again when the moment is right and once again I will enjoy it more then I did before this week. I know so much that when I was a new mom just trying to find way through the darkness of it all I didn’t know. Every fever struck fear in my heart. Every rash had me calling the doctor. Every hiccup made me jump. Then I was forging the path. I was going through the thick stuff and going against the wind. The path wasn’t clear and I was learning just where I would need to go next. It was all I could do to just keep moving forward or even staying afloat.
Now, that isn’t the case. Those days I forged those paths and spent nights worrying and then being relieved when it all resolved on its own or the times I knew it wasn’t right and we got the help he needed. Those moments forged the path I can run today. Sure the conditions change on that path from time to time and sometimes it isn’t the same, but I know it will be just fine. I will get back to work and the sun will come out again.
So when I reached the end of the trail and needed to head home, I took that path I carved back. I glided and zoomed over the windswept winter landscape. My cheeks cold and my lips near frozen, but it felt easy and quick because I knew where my skis where and how to get back the clearest way possible. I knew where the troubles would lie and soon enough I was warm inside by the fire all good and writing this for you.
Sure the tiredness is still there and I will go to bed early on a Friday night tonight and hope it breeds a more restful night, but if it doesn’t, I will trust the years I have had under my belt where I carved the path and know this will all be okay.
So if you are a new parent going through all the first tough moments or starting a new business just trying to figure it all out or moving to a new place or anything else, think of yourself carving a path that will one day make another moment in your life more clear and easier to walk. Have heart when it gets hard and you lose sight of any direction or where you are going. Take it one tiny itty bitty step at a time and soon enough you will look behind you and a path will be there leading you clearly to the way back home or wherever you want to be.
