Photo: I got the boys out in the snow yesterday and they went straight for the playfort. Have you ever made snow fly off of a slide before? My boys did. They also crawled in the snow, laid in the snow, ate the snow… I found protection in the playfort and watched, flabbergasted.
I am not the biggest fan of winter. Longtime readers can attest to that. (Lord knows I annoy all of you by this time of year! I’m sorry!)
I will confess, however, that I do have a deep appreciation (dare I say, love?) for the actual time of snowfall.
Snowstorms have a special sort of quiet that cannot be replicated in any other way. There are only a couple other places where I’ve experienced this sort of quiet: the forest in New Hampshire (which has a whisper and a whistle to it), on a sailboat in the middle of the bay off of Portland, Maine, and the monastery I visited in Cambridge. They are all different sorts of quiet, not silent, but quiet, and I have found myself yearning for quiet more and more.
It’s a weird topic to write about on a Wednesday. I usually write about Quiet on Fridays, because, well, you know… Quiet Thoughts. But I’m taking a moment to write about it on this Wednesday because I think that mid-week is often madness. I’m in the middle of too many things, I have so much that has to be accomplished before Friday, Valentine’s Day is tomorrow (I… don’t really love Valentine’s Day, as ya’ll know…)… and I’m having a week. The snow is annoying. Between my stomping, whining, sighing, grunting, and cursing, I experience snow loudly and angrily. Yesterday, however, the quiet hit me before any of the feelings did. It’s like the world, for a brief moment, said
Hey, shut the hell up. Just be here for a minute and listen. You’ll feel better.
And I did. I stayed out there for an hour. Thanks to the playfort, I had a pretty good shelter, a fairly nice view, and a great little place to stop and listen. The snow fell, the boys played, the street was empty… I breathed and listened to the nothing of it, the tinkle of it, the skittering of frozen water against evergreen needles and tree bark, stone walls and house siding.
I do not love the winter. I do not love the cold. But I do love that Winter offers a very unique sort of quiet that comes ’round when it comes ’round, convenient or not. Sometimes stillness doesn’t come when you want it to or even when you need it to. Sometimes, the call for stillness and quiet just comes.
It’s Wednesday, Dear Reader. Do you need a moment? Has it been a loud few days? Could you use a little time for breath and stillness? I’m not talking about performance breath and stillness, I’m not talking about yoga class, I’m not talking about doing this sort of thing for others to see. I’m asking you if you need, for a moment in time this mid-week, a moment to be still and quiet. If you need it, take it.
If it comes for you, expected or not, take it.
Sometimes we don’t really know what we need until it comes.
Who knew I needed snow?
Wednesdays are not generally for wishes, but I wish you peace tonight, Dear Reader. I wish you quiet. I wish you calm. Let it wash over you and fill you up, preparing you for whatever comes tomorrow. It’s Valentine’s Day, or whatever. Tomorrow is tomorrow. Whatever comes, prepare tonight with quiet and calm.
I’ll see you Friday for (real) Quiet Thoughts.