Lake Minnetonka is frozen solid. I’m talking about strap on the snow shoes, wave to a few ice fishermen while I journey across the entire width of the Lake; wild, wooly, wondrous winter in Minnesota. It encompasses a certain kind of awesomeness, in some ways almost an invitation to freedom that surprises me every time I encounter it because it is so, so unexpected.
I do a lot of things in my life today that I never really imagined I would ever be doing. Honestly, the trajectory of my early 50’s resembles the flight of a cork that explodes out of a shaken champagne bottle. I know there is a destination and the speed of the journey can be hang on to your hat fun, yet how the hell do I make sense of any of it?
The truth is that as I have attempted to lean more graciously into the endless whizzing spiral, the less tightly I hold on. And as I loosen my hold upon desired outcomes, controlled expectations, the need to have my dreams realized right now, the grander, more audacious and downright multitudinous are the manifestations.
And so I let go; huff out a frozen breath through my scarf, settle more loosely into the comfort of my coat, connect with subtle body wisdom, and set my drishti toward the opposite side. The snow scrunches up around the leather straps of my shoes, each step suggesting expansion and softening, inherent possibility and acceptance, head and heart. All that I do is touched by ice-laden lake, as I journey toward a shore that I have yet to know.