Snow falls softly but steadily, piles up in drifts and deep carpets, changing the landscape. Our small pine tree that Bob draped with white bee lights before the holidays looks magical with the lights gleaming through the pine’s cloak of snow.
Because we live in the country and have a BIG backyard, when it snows, we have a lot of areas to clear–sidewalks, driveway, mailbox, steps, and paths to bird feeders and compost bin. Fortunately, Bob is able to use a snowblower for most of the clearing. If one of the boys is visiting, they’ll shovel steps and areas the machine can’t get to. If not, I get out there to help.
When our collie mix, Duncan, was alive, several of the paths that Bob cleared were for Duncan, who needed numerous paths to his woodsy latrine.
Often, Duncan tried to plow his own paths, decking himself with snow on his back and snow balls on his legs in the process. Helping to shovel these paths, I often thought about how winter forces us to define and recognize the paths we habitually travel–we most often use this door to go out, we walk this direction at this angle uphill, we go to this point and that place.
Deep snow discourages meandering outside—-unless you have snowshoes or cross-country skis. So, we clear and shovel our habitual paths, and then follow them as long as the snow lasts.
Sort of like what we do with our lives—-our creative lives especially—-which is odd considering that our creative lives are where we should be meandering.
Instead, what often happens is that once we clear a path by creating routines, connections, and habits, we fail to explore new opportunities, new relationships, new ideas because they require more work—-in effect, more shoveling.
And heaven knows our muscles are still aching from the last effort. After all, what’s wrong with the old paths? Aren’t they the shortest, fastest, and easiest ways to where we want to go?
Nothing, of course, is wrong with well-worn paths, but what happens to some of the critical elements of creativity—-discovery, growth and well, fun—-if we stay on the old paths? We can’t kick up snow or throw ourselves into snow angels by staying on those paths. Creativity demands exploration. Life does too.
Maybe that’s why Duncan often politely sniffed the paths we carved for him and then loped off into the pristine snowscape of uncharted yard.
So put on your creative skis and snowshoes. Get out into the wonderland of your creativity and explore!
Create new paths…