In some ways, it was a triumph because I didn’t die and now I get to say things like “I snowshoed up a mountain”. In other ways, it was a really sobering experience. As soon as we started the ascent, it became painfully obvious that I had virtually no cardiovascular endurance. The lack of thigh muscles definitely made the trek upward more difficult than it needed to be, but the main issue was that I needed to stop every few minutes to catch my breath.
[At the bottom of this post I’ve included a song that was playing when I wrote it. I like to include this sort of thing because I love the synchronicity of you listening to the same song while reading. It’s like you’re here with me!]
Reticent, by Philip Kanwischer
One thing about life that always makes me feel good is that no matter how much my life changes (and good lord, it has changed a lot in the past few years), there are a few essential components that remain the same. Some are very small things like mass quantities of cheese, scalding hot baths, and books piling up on bedside tables. Others are much bigger.
Of the larger constants, one of the most vital (especially recently) has been a search for meaning. It’s a slightly eye-roll-y phrase, but seriously it’s what we’re all doing, isn’t it? We’re all constructing a life for ourselves, consciously or unconsciously. We choose jobs, places to live, partners, and things to fill our days. We are constantly standing in front of forks in the road – large and small – and being asked to pick a direction.
Making these choices is one of most exhilarating things we are asked to do. It can also be slightly terrifying because after you make a choice you have to live with it. Sometimes forever.
On Friday, I had some time left over after working and before picking Olive up for kindergarten. I decided to pop into our neighbourhood kid’s bookstore to browse around a little bit before I headed over to Olive’s school.