Frozen Steps

I like tripping over metaphors, hearing words in my head about a basic thing that hint at or shout out a double meaning - an application of meaningful import beyond the mundane situation to which they were first applied. And so I offer to you this sage advice:

Be wary of trying to walk on yesterday's frozen footprints.

We had a beautiful snow day on Inauguration Day, a rarity in these parts, and a perfectly cozy and majestically lovely day to watch the changing of the guard. But before the hours of coverage, we joined the dog on a romp through the neighborhood and enjoyed the crisp freshness of a still-falling snow. The next day's dog walk was slightly less crisp, not so much fresh, and far more dangerous. All the footprints of the previous day were now frozen into slippery shoe-shaped soles of ice, with tread and traction detail poking up edgy ice bits.

I found walking on yesterday's frozen footprints difficult and dangerous and a process that slowed me down considerably as the energetic lab I was leashed to desired to prance ahead at a much faster pace. It was no good walking on yesterday's frozen steps, following yesterday's path, trying to recreate an old pattern without acknowledging today's new context and needs. It was necessary to make new steps, a new path, and avoid the slips and jabs of old footprints.

And so I stepped into the unmarred snow and made my way forward with a far more free, far more fulfilling, and far more rapid pace towards my goals, recognizing that yesterday's footprints won't get me to today's places.