Picture this, a neighborhood full of snow shovelers, pathmakers, and pathfinders among mounds of northeast snow and children gleefully making snowmen. Clanking of metal to the ground, shrieking of little ones delighted with their play, and repetitious conversations flood the air. Sounds familiar? If you live in the northeast, it should.
Winter was in the air and in full force throughout January and early February here on Long Island. Snowmaggedon even visited trying to add a little flavor to our wintry days.
Throughout those past months, my neighborhood was involved in everyday life except on the days that winter blew in a fierce wind to stir the area. Clearing a path through the mounds of snow became an additional task, and in some cases an art. There were the straight paths, the narrow ones, and the half-hearted attempts that were acts of quick departure by those not eager to remain outside. Neighborhood talk revolved around snow shoveling, temperatures dipping, sun melting marshmallow mounds, and life in general.
Within the immense blanket of snow and crystalline frost, a certain stillness evolved. On several of those arduous snow-shoveling days, I had the opportunity to ponder the importance of clearing a path. While engaged in the physical act of shoveling, I questioned myself. Was I lackadaisically involved, on the periphery, or passionately and intently interested in the task at hand? Did my involvement move beyond the surface level?
Throughout the month of March, I will explore thoughts on my journey as I create visuals, reflections, and poetry for the March Slice of Life Challenge. At first, I thought I would plot out my slices in an organized fashion but since life always intersects my wishes, I decided it would be best to allow thoughts to organically flow? I am not sure where this will lead me but I do know for sure that If I believe, a path will open.
Join me this month as I pause to savor the single, simple moments of each day to clear a path through life.
This post is the first in a series entitled Clearing a Path written for Two Writing Teachers' March Slice of Life Challenge. You can access the site here to read what the other slicers are saying as they start their March writing journey.
Winter was in the air and in full force throughout January and early February here on Long Island. Snowmaggedon even visited trying to add a little flavor to our wintry days.
Throughout those past months, my neighborhood was involved in everyday life except on the days that winter blew in a fierce wind to stir the area. Clearing a path through the mounds of snow became an additional task, and in some cases an art. There were the straight paths, the narrow ones, and the half-hearted attempts that were acts of quick departure by those not eager to remain outside. Neighborhood talk revolved around snow shoveling, temperatures dipping, sun melting marshmallow mounds, and life in general.
Within the immense blanket of snow and crystalline frost, a certain stillness evolved. On several of those arduous snow-shoveling days, I had the opportunity to ponder the importance of clearing a path. While engaged in the physical act of shoveling, I questioned myself. Was I lackadaisically involved, on the periphery, or passionately and intently interested in the task at hand? Did my involvement move beyond the surface level?
Throughout the month of March, I will explore thoughts on my journey as I create visuals, reflections, and poetry for the March Slice of Life Challenge. At first, I thought I would plot out my slices in an organized fashion but since life always intersects my wishes, I decided it would be best to allow thoughts to organically flow? I am not sure where this will lead me but I do know for sure that If I believe, a path will open.
Join me this month as I pause to savor the single, simple moments of each day to clear a path through life.
This post is the first in a series entitled Clearing a Path written for Two Writing Teachers' March Slice of Life Challenge. You can access the site here to read what the other slicers are saying as they start their March writing journey.
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