P.G. Smith Author

Half the country seems to be snowed in today. It is a terrible inconvenience and even a danger for many people. But in my world, everything was cancelled. So, I woke up this morning feeling like I didn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to, which is actually true for most of us, at least for a short period of time. That’s a precious gift.

So, this morning I listened to Dvorak’s 9th Symphony (one of my favorites) and gazed out my window at the snow and ice for an hour, instead of doing my usual morning meditation. (That’s right. I actually skipped it, my habitual, obligatory morning meditation. I blew it off! What a wild and crazy gal!) I let the music spill over me and touch my soul with its beauty.

The river outside my window still looks like a sheet of slate, dove gray and solid as rock. You can’t even tell it’s moving unless you concentrate very hard. It almost looks like you could walk on it, more like stone than water–or ice, perhaps, but not shiny. It’s still snowing a little, clouds churning, making the city look hazy like twilight. The snowflakes float silently, softly meandering toward the ground. They are in no hurry. They have no schedule to keep. They dance upward and sideways, playfully riding the breezes, fluttering to each other as if they were old friends out for a day at the park. I wonder if I could start every day this way, with the serenity of a snowflake.

It is such a good feeling. I wanted to share it with the world. Why can’t we all start out the day a little more peaceful? Well, our society is certainly not set up to encourage it. Who has time to be peaceful? Especially in the morning. I spent most of my life hitting the ground running like a commando every day just as most people do in this country. But serenity is such a worthwhile state of mind to cultivate. Everyone says so–all the medical experts. Stress is bad for us. Realistically, though, how do we promote serenity? How do we find time for it? What produces it, anyway?

Maybe I will talk about that some time (since I used to teach a course on living well according to the wisdom of the ancient philosophers) but right now on this snowy morning with this wonderful feeling, I will just suggest one thing. Try to think of a day when you felt the way I am describing. Did you ever lie on the ground and gaze up at the stars? Or walk in the woods when the sun trickled through the leaves in dappled pools of gold? Or closed your eyes and let the beauty of a symphony wash over you like an ocean wave?

We all have moments of deep serenity. We know the feeling, even if it is from long ago. And I know we can recall it if we try. One summer when I was about ten, I found an old rubber boat floating in the lake by my aunt’s cottage. It was a lazy summer day, everyone lying around doing nothing in particular. The boat was upside down, so I dipped under water and came up inside it, pretending I was in a submarine or a secret spy vessel. The sun was warm and so was the lake water. My little cubicle looked golden because the boat was that mustard color and the sun was shining through the canvas floor of it like a heat lamp. I just floated around for I don’t know how long, feeling a peacefulness that was like another world. I didn’t want it to stop, ever.

That’s how I felt this morning listening to that exquisite music and watching those snowflakes dance along the slate gray river. I invite you to recall your own moment of tranquility, when you reached beyond the daily details of life to connect with the universe; when you remembered just for a little while the value of being still, the value of just being. Peace of mind is possible. Remember that for your next snow day.