Chipping Away

I spent the better part of the afternoon chipping away at the ice on the driveway.  It's jarring work.  Placing the shovel at the base of a section of ice, kicking it hard, hoping it breaks off, kicking it again, then shoveling whatever has broken off and piling it onto the mountains of snow that line the driveway.  The sun was my helper today, and I am thankful for that.

I made a significant dent in the ice.  But the coming week's fluctuating temperatures will likely cause more ice, more melting, and a repeating pattern that means winter will still be around for awhile, at least on my property.  So I will be chipping away every chance I get.

But despite the hard work and the resulting aches and soreness, I kind of like the process of chipping away at something.  I've always been somewhat of a "picker," I guess.  I never needed nail polish remover back in the days when I polished my nails.  I just chipped away at the old polish until it was gone.  Sanding down furniture for refinishing was never a chore for me; I just chipped away at the old finish.  Peeling skin from a sunburn?  Let me at it.

I don't have any explanation for this.  I guess it must have something to do with a visible sense of accomplishment.  I can look at my driveway today and it looks a helluva lot better than it did yesterday.  I did that.  I chipped away at it.

Or maybe the ice (or the nail polish or the dead skin or whatever) is symbolic of a layer of something bad that is messing with my karma.  I can get rid of it.  I can chip away at it.

Sadness, sorrow, guilt, regret . . . these do not have to be permanent.  I'll chip away.

I'm chipping away.