Rain has fallen the past two days. What snow we had is gone. Replaced with last year’s grass, sand, and mud, the yard is crunchy and slippery. The sun rises over naked rooftops, and bare branches reflect the light. An odd mixture of the winter month and the scent of spring. I hear bird songs. Yesterday while walking the dog to a local park, the small pond had opened enough to allow water to the surface with an icy bottom. A raft of 6 ducks arrived from the east and landed in the cold, icy water.

The wind is strong and leftover leaves tumbling across the deserted soccer field, their consistent sound echoing between the houses, are a reminder that this natures house and we are guests.

Even though winter is paused today, I feel more at home here, then in the stronghold of winter or spring. Fall is a close second with the artist’s palette that nature chooses to paint with. But there is nothing like snow and ice, and the absolute cold fingers that reach for you, and the instinct we run with to look inside for warmth. Winter is truly the season of awareness, and in its depths, I truly feel alive.

I am reminded of the work I have been doing, most importantly around fear and what prevents me from moving forward, and getting out of my comfort zone. What better way than to tackle a mountain, regardless of the outcome. I have realistic expectations, and will be happy with any outcome, as long as I push myself and come away with a new experience, and come out as a better person than I was the day before.

Mountains loom in every direction when standing in the middle of an empty field. There are two choices from within the dark shadows: cower beneath the lessening light, or climb the mountain and emerge on the other side of the obstacles.



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