This was beyond words for me. This was, almost picture-perfect, a recreation of some of the most peaceful times in my life while growing up partly in Minnesota and then as an adult in Alaska. I could hear that strange subtle ringing in my ears I only hear in the absolute stillness of fresh-fallen snow. Or when sitting off the trail on a snow-capped mountain, watching my breath crystalize and sparkle in the trickle of sunlight cascading through the snow-laden arms of the pine trees around me. Or standing in the center of a frozen lake as the sun sets and the ice fishers headed home, looking back at the lights coming on at the shoreline houses, and seeing the three flashes on-and-off at my parents' house, telling me it was time to come inside and get ready for dinner. Or lying on my back in a huge drift of snow, making snow angels while my dog snapped playfully at snow being blown in the breeze, with the drift angled just right to catch a good easy viewing of the night's shimmering aurora display while my husband was out of town. Or slipping and sliding along the edge of a glacier, staring up in awe at the blue-green towaring wall of ice before me. Or my grandmother and mother telling me when dressing for going outside that "there is no such thing as bad weather, only bad choices of clothing" and "function over fashion!" which resulted in us all looking slightly motley but not caring in the least as we races outside with our friends to find smooth river ice we could sweep in order to play broomball before losing the light. And the feel of a warm mug of hot chocolate or soup pressed into my hands as I finished peeling away the rapidly-dampening snowpants caked in snow, and jacket and gloves and socks too, after a long day skiing or making snow forts or simply exploring happily in the woods behind my house.
There is much tension and anxiety and stress and fear in the world at this point in time. Understandably so, and many have never experienced true isolation from others nor learned how to not only manage, but thrive under such conditions. I naturally prefer quietude and limited social contact, which leaves me time for thinking studying, learning, meditating, and development of many of my hobbies and skills. Because of my preferences, I know how to be isolated and remain in contact with others, but even now I do not have that chance to employ those abilities.
I am one of many essential personnel, serving people with disabilities as well as a number of local military installations where our employees perform vital support services from hospital housekeeping to shelf stocking and food service. I, along with my staff, handle their individual unique needs and accommodations, in addition to their fears, overwhelm, and anxieties in tandem with their vocational rehabilitation counselors and our project managers. It is often stressful, necessary work, but I am generally quite calm and relaxed as I have experience which has well-equipped me to rise to this challenge. Knowing they have learned proper ways to protect themselves from pathogens also helps, as I instructed them personally as our office's Red Cross instructor.
Still, while I go to work every day in my office building which is locked to the public, with my only company those who are usually there and the ringing of the phone to have my attention be turned in this direction or that, it has sometimes been difficult to find that place of inner stillness and peace within myself to nourish my soul. Living in the dramatically different environment of the Southeastern USA where we can go for years and perhaps see a single brief snow flurry has not helped me find that center in the least, nor find a new one.
But this...this practice...this found me and I found myself again.
I can still feel that snowball in my hand from the end of the guidance, and see my slightly reddened and damp fingers as I hold it. I can feel that odd breeze on my face and neck that is warm yet cool, a hint of the turning of the seasons, a whispered promise of the vibrant green buried within which will soon joyfully burst forth to greet the strengthening sun with broad, welcoming leaves.
I have found my stillness and my home within, by returning to who I have always been underneath, just like the hidden leaves. And I smiled through my tears of happiness as I am again right now.
Thank you so very much for this gorgeous trip down memory lane. The crunch of the snow (which in my mind I pitched to reflect about 30°F) lingers in my memory now as I continue with my day, truly relaxed and calm for the first time in what seems like a lifetime. I've bookmarked and downloaded this to return to often, just like the snowball when I cannot play the actual track. My heart is full of gratitude now more than ever. Thank you for sharing this here. I see you and the light within you. Be well. 🤲🏻❤️🤲🏻
