Savoring stillness

For the love of a snow event

The sun rose on a snowy landscape this morning. I love snow, though, for reasons different from most snow lovers.

We don’t seem to get as much snow in Georgia as we used to. Or maybe it’s just a cycle. I’m not the person keeping track.

During the years we received regular encounters with snow, the stillness of it all struck me. On days when events get cancelled and movement is stopped, the snow creates a blanket of silence that exists nowhere else, in my experience.

How do we miss this peace and stillness? For Southerners, anyway, we hype up about the negative aspects, the interference with our busy routines that keep our minds buzzing constantly. And the traffic. The necessity of bread and milk, for whatever reason. We can’t stop, it seems, for anything, Mother Nature included. So, when forced to stop – what do we choose?

The brain and nervous system might get caught up in the space of wanting to move forward with what’s on our agenda. Energetically, we spin the wheels of our minds without gaining traction. Could we stop and recognize that we have no control over the weather, the air temperature, and the laws of science that govern water? We can encounter the snow like children – with glee at the opportunity to experience a rare event.

Wrapped in blankets and sitting on a cushion, I watched it snow from the front porch. Tuning, as much as I could, to the stillness. Observing the huge snowflakes fade over moments into smaller flakes. Listening to the water clang through the downspout as the snow melted from the roof, following gravity. Soaking in the silence. A chill set in, shifting the weather; a bird flew to the large oak tree.

The weather changed. A car passed by and then another. Duck hunters, later than usual, fired on their targets in the distance. Yet it was not time to move. A new and different stillness arose. Then, the peals of joy and laughter sounded from down the street. Gleeful children experiencing the snow.

Snow in the driveway began to melt. It was 9:00 a.m.

The other challenge: confronting gloomy, naysaying thoughts. “It’ll stop by the time you get out there.” “It won’t be long enough to get anything out of it.”

And maybe this is when gratitude practices really matter. Choosing to enjoy the snow event for as long as it was here, that’s new for me. Without creating unreasonable expectations, I set up outside for as long as I could savor the stillness. Grateful solely that there was snow, however brief or long. Without anticipating the end or the barriers to daily life, absorbing in the rare peace and stillness of snow.