It’s easy to fall into the habit. Pulling on your shoes. Breaking the heel collar, bit by bit, day by day, until it’s worn down, until it no longer offers any reasonable support. Even though each day the broken heel presents itself, still it is easy to continue. It’s easy. It’s easy too, to grab a shoe horn, preferably one of those long ones, then you don’t have to bend down. Then you make that creaking sound with your mind as you lurch to one side to make the job fit your world, while simultaneously adding thirty years to the weight of that same world; expressed as one perfect groan. It’s easy. It’s easy to untie your shoe. To fit your whole foot comfortably in, pull the laces, just so, snug over the bridge. Fasten the laces, make the knot well, cease to be conscious of the act but filled by it, thread the bow cleanly, in the moment and straighten up, rise fully, for the first time in the day. Rid of the worry of the time and the groan that the broken heel presents; the archer is realized. The day opens unaware and may perhaps be filled with moments like these, all the possibilities each day, in the drawing of a lace.