I have just finished editing a publication of some of my poetry. My head is full of the lovely winter icy blue lake scenes that inspire me to write about the big picture, and to remember our connections with the trees, the earth, the lakes and rivers.
The reality show that is our daily lives is a somewhat different picture, is it not? This past week, like much of North America, my own city has been reeling from unfriendly weather. Not the tornados of Australia, but just weather. With a capital W. From Connecticut to Halifax to Chicago, my personal circuit of friends, many of us are struggling with staying okay, feeling dragged down. It feels like a struggle. Brave face replaces glad heart, in my case. I I remember my teenage years with no cares in the world except delight at big snow for skiing and for holidays from school. Adult life catches up with me. My biggest issue this week is what to do with the car, honestly, when snowbanks stand where parking spaces once were. And yes, I would love to live without one, but no, this is not a reality with the way I earn my living.
Two years ago I had a lot of comedy mileage over digging out cars just before the plow comes along and layers a four feet bank of cement-like sludge between you and the escape to the roadway. We don’t dig out cars, exactly, we dig out a nice space for the next guy who comes in; when we return, our slugging away at the heavy stuff begins anew as we try to carve our way into a now inaccessible spot half a block further away. I am getting an image of a kind of futile attempt at nest building that becomes the home of another bird the moment we fly away to find food. Silly analogy, but it cheered me up a little. Everything becomes just a little harder to do, even walking on the non-existent sidewalks.
Lovely lake and winter blue becomes city winter sludgy blues. Time to move to the country, where in my heart I long to be? Snowed in away from a large metropolis reminds me of huge snow drifts and lots of soup! Sometimes I forget that I have instant access to wherever I wish to be at any moment. All is illusion: I can go to my blue-green Caribbean sanctuary, or to a snowy mountain peak. All I need is a quiet moment to take myself there.
Last week I learned that taking a few quiet moments every day, and not necessarily for meditation, but just in blissful silence, have been correlated with happiness. People who do report being happier. Excuse me for a moment, and thank you for these moments of quiet as I write and distance myself from the immediate pressures. Do something you love, just yourself, and spend some quiet time with yourself. Don’t forget to smile, which your brain interprets as “Oh! I am happy?”.
Were it not for the getting and coming and going in cars, snow would be as lovely for grownups as it surely is for small people. Not sure how to turn all this around, but slowing down helps, in the sunshine.
Blessings and good luck with your weather with a capital W wherever you are,