one hour better

There is this anomaly in Vermont that happens during a snowfall at dusk. When the light's almost gone, and the sky is heavy and gray, the world takes on this new color of slate blue. The whole farm is bathed in this color, and it is a show stopper. I was outside in this light tonight, trying to coax the flock back into their pen. When the sheep were inside I tied the gate and started walking back towards the cabin. I walked the long way, following the fence and hitting it with the metal grain scoop to shake the snow off. Somewhere in the geography of the moment I stopped and just stood there in the slate blue light. I was now in the middle of the property, surrounded by these glowing arches of snow-covered branches. All around me was this thick blueness. The yellow lights inside the cabin and the small white train of smoke from the chimney made me nearly lose my footing. It was so beautiful I think it caused tiny splinters in my veins. I let out a long sigh and watched the breath swirl up into the air. It was blue too.

How the hell did I get lucky enough to land here? How in god's name did I end up in this job, with these people, in this town, with this life? How did I let all those mistakes happen? It could have gone a million different ways, and yet, here I stood. In the snow. Alone. In the slate gray light that wasn't even real in the first place? I wish I understood all this better.

The new year is just around the switchback. We're almost there and people are talking about resolutions and changes and a hundred tiny things that are going to make us all better people in 2010. I have goals too, but not for the year. I don't have the chops for those kinds of resolutions. I do however, have a system that works and I measure it in hours...

For what it's worth, here is some advice from me. Don't attempt to be a drastically better person in the next calendar year. Don't plan on being thirty pounds thinner, or sixty-thousand dollars richer, or the front man of your own band. Instead, how about just trying to be a slightly better person in the next sixty minutes. This may sound like a weak attempt
but it's not. Results happen slowly and only when we focus on what we want and who we want to become right now. If you want more money, for the next hour, don't spend any and try and pull a quarter off the floor of your car. If you want to lose weight, try not to eat that candy bar for the next hour, and walk up the stairs instead of taking the elevator. If you want to be kinder, spend the next hour on the phone with old friend and tell her you miss her. If you want to plant a garden, raise chickens, or own a farm—spend the next hour online ordering seed catalogs or going to the library for a book on coop building. Make small changes constantly and just try to meet that next turn of the clock one hour smarter, one hour thinner, one hour kinder, and one hour richer and watch your life change.

If everyone could just see the day as 24 chances to make their life a little better, imagine the resolutions that could be met? I try to be an hour better, every hour, and hope those choices add up into something I can grasp with both hands. I think total dedication to the present is what improves ourselves, and not the empty promises that are too big to get our arms around. Just try be one hour better, starting right now. My favorite movie whispers the quote "that every passing minute is another chance to turn it all around". It's a chance worth taking.

Or at least that's the hunch I'm running with. But I'm saying that from quite an awkward location. I don't know how valid the advice is from a girl standing alone in the snow in the middle of a sheep pasture she doesn't even own. I guess we'll find out.