When I was a kid, I used to play on frozen ponds. It's one of those things that I'm now amazed I was allowed to do, which causes me to worry that I'll be an overbearing parent. The small ponds weren't really scary, because they'd freeze all the way through quickly. The big ponds were frozen pretty well along the sides, but usually the middle would be questionable. Maybe it could support my weight, maybe it couldn't. I'd shuffle as far as I dared, and usually go back.
In the hallucinatory delirium that precedes sleep, I found myself last night thinking about my goals as frozen ponds.
Small goals, like small ponds, are easy. The whole thing is frozen solid, so you just slide across. It's good, but not great. You always know, too, that even if the ice breaks, the pond is so small that it's not a huge deal.
Big goals are like big ponds, and they're more complicated. For most of my life I would set big goals, start bravely towards them, and then shuffle back. It feels good to march towards the middle of a frozen pond, and it feels good to start on a big goal. Not only does no one blame when you inevitably turn around, they're a lot more comfortable if you'd do so. Turning around is easy.