Well Worn Paths

Well Worn Paths 

Winters never hold much promise for me. Oftentimes the anticipation of a warm weather vacation is about all that keeps me moving as the long days of summer turn to the short, darkened days of Wisconsin winters.

This year the change of living in a new home in a new city are the twins of confrontation I have been unable to defend. Most mornings I awaken to darkness and crawl out of bed through quicksand and glue, remembering that the first few moments of each new day are the hardest.

It has been many years since I have felt this low as I wait for medications to spin magic and faith to lay footprints. I long to know the reasons and the whys and as I struggle to create an agenda in my mind of sameness and predictability, I remember that it is my own creation of well-worn paths that lead the way to longer days of springtime sun.

The first time I decided to take a hike in the woods with my German shepherd puppy, Aero, I couldn't get my feet in my snowshoes, I could not snap the clasp over the toes of my Danner boots, and when my heel came loose and I dropped my gloves, they were quickly snapped up by puppy teeth. Tears of anger slid down my cheeks as I struggled not to lose my temper, again, only to breed more hatred of the moods I could not control inside the person I do not want to be.

I shuffled forward several hundred feet, not caring if Aero followed or not. When I stopped and looked behind me to see if my forced companion was following, Aero was sitting at the edge of our yard as though he was contemplating his next move.

I called his name and Aero burst forth through fresh snow, following behind in my trail. I rewarded his eager obedience with a handful of treats and we kept moving, plodding, plowing through snow.

Over the bridge that my husband built and up the hill by our large apple tree, we reached the border of our land that leads to more woods to the left or turns to the right into our neighbor's acre upon acre of rows of evergreens. One step, two step, one step, two step. I looked behind me and saw the satisfying path in the freshly fallen layer of snow.

Down one row of trees and up the other, one step, two step, one step, two step. I have been longing for another dog that stays beside me like my last black beauty, Otto, did. Aero does not disappoint. Sometimes he stays so annoyingly close to me that among over 60 acres of forest he finds the most comfort on the backs of my snowshoes, allowing me to make the path so he can follow behind.

The next morning I check the temperature before getting dressed and I already feel the comfort of habit: fill pockets with dog treats, snap on snowshoes, follow path - one step, two step, one step, two step. 

Our second morning out we stand still and watch two deer before us digging through the snow to reach the grass. This is the first time Aero has seen a deer and I wait for him to take chase and leave me. As the deer finally notice us, they turn and bound through the deep snow. Aero stares and I wait. He will leave me, I know he will.  I close my eyes as I start walking forward and I am weighted down by two doggy paws, on top of my snowshoes, behind me.

And the next day is the same, and the next day is the same and the next day is the same: one step, two step, one step, two step.

 It is only by doing the same thing over and over again that you become good at it.  Practice and repeat. Just keep moving, just keep moving, just keep moving. I think that is the way most people get through hardships and pain and suffering. You find what works and you do it again and again.

I will never grow used to feeling low, no one does. But in the midst of my daily repetition I find a pattern and I repeat it until I find contentment and my mind finds wellness again. Sometimes the well-worn paths form channels that lead to pain and we need to find a new route. Here in the woods, in the winter, I have had to find a new route, around the trees, one step, two step, one step, two step.