There’s snow.
And then there’s hard snow and soft snow, loose snow and snow that is tough enough to create a snowball.
When I look at the ground on my walk into town, I notice the snow. But I don’t see “snow”, instead, I categorize it. I see “hard” or “soft” snow, I label it in my mind. I think about it, logically, instead of simply experiencing it.
I do that with a lot of things. It’s because I’ve been trained to. Raised to. Set to see boxes instead of infinity. Made to experience narrowness rather than expansiveness.
Now, I’m trying to undo this. It was helpful, for some time and now it’s time to let that go — well, some of it, not all of it.
By letting go of those labels, I can experience the fullness of life, of people, of nature, without having to wrap my mind around it.
It can just exist as it is. Nothing more. Nothing less. Nothing too significant. Nothing too insignificant, either.
I’m practicing stepping back, and gaining some perspective. Noticing the details, the intricacies, the aliveness of everything.
So that, yes, there’s hard snow and soft snow, but there’s also just snow.
