I never met a field of snow I didn’t want to impress. You know what I mean—a field of snow on which to throw myself down and fling my arms out wide. Moving them back and forth I clear a semicircle shape out of the white snow, making a snow angel with my body.
My body has learned a lot about its limits, as well as all the fantastic things it can do, by pushing against the material world.
Testing, feeling, pressing. The surfaces I approached often met me halfway. Sure you can push on me, a muddy stream bank responded. I’ll let you reach in below the surface—but only so far.
Other surfaces let me know they were in charge. Rocky cliffs refused to be impressed. Bodies of water allowed me immediate entrance, even though it was on their own liquid terms. How could I learn unless I set out to touch and probe?As a kid I couldn’t resist leaving a trace of my body anywhere an impression could be made. My young hands gravitated toward wet clay (even wet cement). The chance to leave a unique
impression of my hands or initials captured for all time was just too tempting. Sometimes just being in exactly the right terrain creates impressions without even trying, a sandy beach, for example.
(excerpt from "Inside the Flame."Inside the Flame: The Joy of Treasuring What You Already Have