Meditations with a snow shovel

Shovel, deer tracks, shadows, and 1 inch of snow

It snowed last night. Nowhere near the dramatic predictions of winter storm Juno, but it snowed regardless. Which meant shoveling.

The title of this blog post is inspired from Mad Men, whose inspiration came from Frank O'Hara (for Mad Men geeks, a deeper dive here and here). Art references and imitates itself, which leads to new derivatives inspired for the next generation. So is art, and so is life.

There is time to contemplate these connections while shoveling snow. Two hours of back-and-forth across pavement with a shovel. Sure, I had music streaming through my smartphone, but that only sets the mood for what is a rhythmic traversing of the driveway. I sweep away animal tracks, whose brief connection to the land vanishes in a pile. Tracks from Deer, squirrels, some strange birds - they use this driveway same as me, albeit with different intentions.

By the time that I finish, I have a clear head. My muscles are thoroughly exercised, and my sensor tells me the effort took over 10,000 steps. Those steps are lost, just like the animal tracks, through the snow that is no longer on the driveway. Such is meditation when it is done.

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