I am kneeling in it and cursing the snow that snuck its way under the tarp meant to protect my wood. This fancy kiln dried wood, which is now encrusted with ice, was meant for my wood stove, my only source of heat in my winter cabin.
I've already filled, dragged and re-piled a half-dozen loads to the pile on the porch. Hunching over, I set down yet another log on the red plastic sled. I stretch up. And then I stand motionless.
I'd been cursing. I'd been cursing everything; wood, tarp, snow, ice, my life.
I'd been thinking before that moment about how miserable I am these days. How foolish I was to come here to live in the mountains. A place full of snow and more snow. So much snow I often can't get out of my driveway. So much snow I limit my trips to town to twice a week for fear of the dangerous back-country roads.
So much snow. So little access to work. I'd been cursing my foolishness thinking I could make a life here. That I could finally stop moving from city to city, job to job. That I could finally learn the contours of the land I lived on. Finally form relationships that didn't have to end a few months later as I packed up yet again for a new place.
I've been so frustrated with my lack of a career, my unemployment, I denounced my move as a failure. I'd been scouring about for my escape, a new job, a new life, somewhere else. . . and so my roving continues.
That was the rant circling my frontal lobe, furrowing my brow and deepening my headache, when I stopped piling wood.
I stood still matching the frozen landscape. Snowflakes drifted lazily to their brother and sister flakes collected below, a giant pillow for their rest after a long fall from the clouds. My mind, for one brief moment emptied to the white contours stretching across the land.
My breath rose in front of my face and fogged my glasses. My moment of empty thought gone.
But I did not return to my sour rant. I asked myself, Why do you curse?
Do not curse the snow. It is a gift. Not only of beauty- it softly speaks, “Stay here. Stay warm. Turn inward and look inside.” Snow decorates the world and allows us the excuse of doing nothing, so that we may examine our hearts. Follow it's example, reflect light.
I ask myself, why do I worry? What will worries accomplish?
I am concerned about my future. I do not know how I will pay my bills next month. I fear an insecure life.
I must let go of this fear and embrace my unknown future. It is full of possibilities.
I crawled back under the tarp and pulled out another log for the pile. I turned my mind back to the simple work of living. It is a job I still have yet to master.
But everyday I am learning.
