Watching huge flakes of snow falling weightlessly, haphazardly outside of my kitchen window. so many things draw me to this moment, and I sit. I sit still, and quietly. Compelled.
There are times when I’m driven to observation by, what? Compulsion? It’s as if I know I’m being called to be a watcher, a scribe to the moment. Secretly, I know that we are all called to moments such as these, to be Observers, scribing the data that is uncovered in these quietly captured instants.
Of course, it’s Nature ringing the dinner bell, calling us to the table, inviting us to partake.
Few times in life I choose to just be, and this is one of those times; and there’s an element of glory in it, of mystery.
As the snow finds its way to the backyard terrain, we can now tangibly see the swirling energy that is so often invisible. The movement of the snow serves like an overlay, and it’s as if we’re getting to read between the lines, we can see the Matrix, the movement in the atmosphere. Dimension is different with snow falling, deeper and richer.
What is it that makes me feel joy watching snow fall? True, there is a layer of melancholy. It is after all, winter, the time of deep sleep and darkness. Shorter days, the weight of dormancy.
But there’s a dance inherent in all of this motion I observe through my window…
