Heads AND Tails

 “Always remember, your focus determines your reality.” ~ George Lucas

Yesterday we headed out to Zugspitze, the highest mountain in Germany. From the top we would be able to see mountains in four countries: Germany, Austria, Switzerland, and Italy. The day got off to a rocky start, as Tom was laser focused on the details of getting us from here to there, while I was all about the experience between here and there. He wanted to make sure we got where we were going. I wanted to make sure we got the most out of getting there. 

That happens to us a lot. 

The best example of that yesterday happened smack dab in the middle of the Munich Hauptbanhof (train station). Purchasing our tickets was a lot like standing in line at the DMV. We arrived, took a number, and waited. While we waited, I studied the people. Tom studied the map.

That happens to us a lot. 

Finally, tickets in hand, with about 12 minutes to spare, we headed for track number 29. Tom dashed ahead, laser focused on getting us from here to there, I was a few steps behind, taking in what was going on between here and there. Just in time, I grabbed him by the shirttails. “Look at that!” I said, pointing straight in front of me.  “Look at what?” Tom said, staring blankly toward where my arm was pointing. “That! Right there!” I said. “What?! Where?!” he said. “That!” I said. “Oh!”, he said.

That happens to us a lot. “

One more step and he would have walked right into the middle of a marriage proposal. Literally. A determined looking young man, down on one knee, ring box in hand, looking hopefully at a delighted looking young woman, hand over her mouth, in tears. Sometimes love looks the same in any language.  

Tom would have missed it if I hadn’t stopped him. We would have missed our train if he hadn’t stopped to figure out where we were going.

That happens to us a lot  

We are two sides of the same coin. 

Heads? We make it from here to there.

Tails? We make the most out of getting there.

It takes both sides of the coin to cash in on life. 

Snow Days

It's been snowing for days now.

We are, what you might call, snowed in.

Our road is half a mile long, and in order to get out to the highway, the road has to be plowed almost every day. Thankfully, we have wonderful neighbors who show up and plow the road, often without being asked. They might come as late as midnight or as early as 6AM. Without their help, we would be up a frozen creek without a (useless) paddle. To get out of our house at all requires constant shoveling. Thankfully, we have a couple of good snow shovels and the wherewithal to shovel. 

Blessed to have a roof over our heads, a warm house, plenty of wood to keep a fire blazing, and food in the pantry, we are safe, comfortable, and able to enjoy all the magic that comes with a snow day. We forgo the gym, and head out the back door on x-country skis for a killer workout. Shoveling snow replaces the need for free weights. Strapping on snow shoes, we track a small herd of elk, spot a squirrel popping up through the snow to grab a snack at the bird feeder, and watch wild turkeys march through the woods.  We nap in front of the fire, catch up on reading, play endless games of backgammon, and cook hearty comfort food. Tucked in front of the fire, conversations slow down and go deep. These are the treasures of being snowed in. 

But.

It isn't all snow globes and magic. Meetings and social gatherings get canceled, plans have to change, and eventually, in spite of the outdoor adventures and indoor coziness, cabin fever sets in. When the snow falls for days, so does the pace of life. Everything slows down, and when things slow down, our anxiety usually speeds up. We find that we suddenly have to sit with the discomfort of whatever it is we try to avoid by getting out and getting busy, or by distracting ourselves through binge watching our go-to series (again), or by losing ourselves in the blackhole of cyberspace. But that same discomfort is calling for our attention. It is the souls way of getting on our radar screen, inviting us to dig deeper, venture further and climb higher. It might be asking us to step fully into our untended pain, our unaddressed issues, or our unresolved inner and outer conflicts. It might  be urging us to step over our fears and out into the world. It could be imploring us to stop playing small and start imagining something larger. Finding ourselves snowbound is a summons to become free of whatever binds us up. It is a call to step onto the trail,and hike our way through whatever it is that blocks our way to living as fully and wholeheartedly as we can. And the trailhead is always, always, always, squarely beneath our feet, even if buried under three feet of snow. The next good step is there to be taken. 

Snow isn't required to get snowed in. We all know the feeling of finding ourselves stuck inside and unable to get out, with drifts so high that we can't see the sky. Who shows up to "plow our road" without being asked? Do they know we are snowed in? If not, time for us to ask for their help. (And as much as I hate to admit it, that almost always proves to be a next good step.)  What "shovel" do we reach for when our way is blocked? Don't have one? Time to go find one and learn how to use it. 

The next time we are snowed in, will it be a call to settle in and sit with whatever we find there?  Or, will it be an invitation to strap on our snow shoes and step out to discover the life that is waiting for us outside our door? Either way, answering the call is our next step.