One good thing about living somewhere wintry is the constant imprinted reminders that you’re not alone.

As I walked my block this morning, I didn’t pass a single other soul out walking.

And that’s the norm.

During the lockdowns of the pandemic, I had to try hard to imagine being within 2 metres (~6 feet) of someone walking around our block. You’d have to go out of your way.

Yet looking down at the sidewalk, I was struck by the sheer volume and variety of footprints of those who had clearly come before me. (Even since our latest snowfall, which was yesterday.)

Deer, dogs, squirrels, adults, children.

It was comforting, and I was glad they weren’t all there at the same time as me.

Someone doing (or having done) their version of something you’re doing is the best way to know you’re not alone, to get a hint that you might be onto something.

This is a thing that’s often misunderstood about trying to come up with original ideas.

Someone doing something like the thing you’re thinking of doing can feel discouraging. It can make you feel like you need to go back to the drawing board and try again.

In reality, though, it’s a great thing.

It’s like a pre-minimum viable proof of concept.

It’s a sign that you can keep going, that this is a way that goes somewhere.

And it’s a sign that you’re not alone.

And we all need those.

I’m walking here,
James