By the time we got back, the snows had turned our previously ankle-deep tracks into barely-visible dimples in the snow.
Walking the dogs. One of those things you can’t skip, even if it pushes you out the door through the heart of a raging snowstorm.
No matter the weather, dogs will be dogs, and they won’t tolerate being locked inside an artificial structure, like a house, for very long stretches of time. They’ll go bonkers. In fact, most of the dogs that get put down for being “crazy” or “unstable” simply don’t get the exercise they need. So they expend that energy in other ways.
So out we go.
Day in, day out
If you’re a responsible dog owner, you can see this. And so you go out every day, for the dogs.
But when you have to keep yourself accountable to something... something where if you don’t do it, it’s only you who suffers... then that isn’t so easy.
As a writer, I need to be writing every day.
As an artist, you need to be creating every day. The day you don’t create, you’re not an artist.
Day in, day out, because real artists ship, whether the weather agrees with you or not.
Because you see, the snows don’t care about your little problems. The snows will rage on, because that is in their nature.
The snowstorms are part of a process much larger than they are... spanning back billions of years in time... over the evolution of the planet and it’s rotation and place in the solar system. Thermo-dynamics and currents in the ocean and everything else.
The snows will rage, and they won’t stop because you don’t feel like walking your damn dog.
You cannot control what you cannot control, and it’s no use trying.
What is under your control is process.
One of the reasons I don’t set goals is because realizing them is beyond my control. I don’t know, can’t know, if I’m going to achieve anything.
The only thing I can control is how I spend each moment. Process.
I can choose to write every day, even if I don’t feel like it. But I can’t choose that people will like the things I write. I don’t care. If I wrote today, at all, I’ve done my job.
And it starts all over again tomorrow.
I can choose to eat better, do things that scare me, talk to strangers, play video games or pig out with a movie and a bucket of ice cream.
In a dieting scenario, you can’t absolutely guarantee you end up with that sexy body you envision in your visualization sessions, or whatever else people get up to.
You can, however, choose in this very moment, to not do something stupid. Like ice cream buckets.
Ultimately, everything is impermanent. The tracks you leave today will be gone tomorrow, covered by the snow.
Unless you keep stomping the shit out of that snow. Trust in the process and do your work. (That’s MAGNETISM Habit #3).
And wear wool socks.