Record breaking snow in Boston this winter ( over 108 inches) has made walking challenging, so my snow boots and I have become close and constant companions.
Although my foot suffocates inside their secure grip and cries out for release, I also feel their warmth and how well they protect me. It is as if they are watchmen with eyes in their soles, on the look out for ice; continually testing the way, preventing me from injuring myself…
As one boot lands on the snow it slides diagonally away from me until it reaches a point of stability. The other boot tentatively touches the hard ground. Inside it my toes, the ball of my foot, the center arch all the way down to my heel, every inch senses the snow and ice. I am aware of the bones in my foot, the muscles, the tendons as they stress and strain to take the weight of my body, to distribute it so that I remain balanced.
Walking becomes an art, not the usual mindless pursuit which takes me places. It is yoga, a study in being present in my body.
And to think I have done it all my life without paying attention.