Monday, April 15, 2013
The Prayer of the Snow Shovel
As I shovel, I give thanks for the snow, for our lakes our empty.
As I shovel, I am filled with gratitude that my body is strong enough to scoop the copious fluff off the sidewalk and onto the buried lawn.
The scrape of metal against pavement and the fluid motion of the toss becomes hypnotic.
Because I know what it is to be a single home owner, my shovel and I visit each next-door neighbor in turn in the hopes it somehow makes their day easier.
I have become an implement of purpose, an appreciative observer, my hands moving of their own accord.
The snow and I, we have reached an understanding. It falls from the heavens, and I ascend to a higher self.
As I shovel, I not only uncover the driveway, I uncover parts of myself.
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3 comments:
I hit the "Next Blog" button on my blog and stumbled onto yours. It's a bit dark, and I remember feeling the way you describe when I lived by myself-those were my "naval gazing" years. What I learned during that time was it's easier to be down then up, and to be up took a bit of work. But I decided that I liked being up better, so it was worth the effort.
Something to think about.
Sorry, I should have added that "The Prayer of the Snow Shovel" was pretty up, it was just the rest of the stuff that seemed a bit down.
I've been doing lots of work lately, lots of sorting out in order to get to 'up'. It's not something that's been easy, but I've been working my way through it :)
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