The Worn Path in the Snow

A quiet reflection on conditioning, comfort, and the moment you realize there may be another way forward.

This morning at the barn, something simple stopped me in my tracks.

There’s a worn path in the snow.
The same one I walk every day.
It’s packed down just enough that no snow sneaks into my boots. Easy. Familiar.

And I realized… that’s exactly how most of us live.

We walk the same paths in life over and over because they’re already cleared. Conditioned. Expected.

Then I noticed another path—one my neighbor kindly plowed for me, straight to the wood shed. Helpful. Thoughtful. Convenient.

It made me wonder how often we’re walking paths laid down by others.
Well-intentioned paths.
Practical paths.
Paths that make sense… but aren’t actually ours.

Then I looked off to the side.

Untouched snow.
No trail.
No rules.

Gus was out there leaping, tunneling, rolling with absolute delight—making his own way, moment by moment. And I noticed how that space felt different. Messier. Deeper. A little harder. And somehow… more alive.

That’s where creativity lives.
That’s where freedom lives.
That’s where your design lives.

Not everyone is meant to carve their own path—and that’s okay. Some are here to walk together, to maintain, to support.

But some of us are designed to lead ourselves.

And I know many of those people are still walking the worn path—not because it’s right, but because it’s familiar.

Maybe this is your gentle reminder to notice where you’re walking on autopilot.
And to ask—without judgment—
“Is this my path… or just the easiest one?”

Sometimes the deeper snow is exactly where you’re meant to go.

And if this reflection stirred something in you—
that sense of knowing there’s more than the path you’ve been walking—
you’re not alone.

I’m opening a space soon for women who feel ready to explore their own path more fully.

It’s called Unbridled, and it’s been forming quietly for a reason.

Categories: : Unbridled