I’ve been thinking a lot about progress, and how to measure it. If it snows every morning but melts every afternoon, what do you call that? Does the snow get its credit for trying, or do we only remember that it didn’t stick? Or how about the ice? I’ve seen it thaw and return to river. Would you call that success, or failure?

I could craft a fairytale out of things that have always existed as one thing and one thing alone. There would be no moments of “but…”. There would no do-overs, no WTF was I thinking, no broken hearts.

But then the pages would be blank, too blank. For living in an effort not to make mistakes, not to change your mind, not to try and fail and fail one thousand more times– that renders life colorless. And it grants us no accolades for the progress we have made, however impermanent or minute.

Moment of Gratitude: It has snowed. The river has frozen. Even if we can’t see that with our eyes, we can remember and take credit for that with our hearts.