There is something about a snow storm that is pure. It has
no motive. It does not want anything from us. It is a pure event.
It just falls and blankets everything. It covers the trees
and hillsides. It covers and quiets our
messes and dramas. For a moment, the storm dominates and all is silent. A pure silence. A pure event.
I remember as a child being in that pure silence under the snow
in the early morning. I remember my disdain when the plow trucks came and disrupted
my world. Then the snow became dirty and noise entered my once quiet and pure
world. TV’s and radios blaring. Voices
complaining about the snow.
But for now, the storm continues to drop snow on us. The
city is frozen. Everything shuts down.
We are suspended above all our work and responsibilities. We
can float, just like the snowflakes into a pure event; the pure existence of simply
being.
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