We cannot deny the festive season is upon us. The fairy lights are up, every store is reminding us that Christmas is drawing ever closer, and the present buying and baking has begun.
In Fort Collins, we’re in the middle of a delicious snow storm. It is seriouslycold outside. It wasn’t until I moved to London two years ago that I was able to appreciate the magic of snow. And it really is magical. The way the world turns into sparkling white, the way air smells crisp and fresh. You come across snow-people built into the footpath. Grown-ups are outplaying. It’s awesome.
In London, snow brings an element of inconvenience too. The lack of regularly falling frozen precipitation means the infrastructure can’t really cope. Public transport becomes a nightmare as train lines are closed, and buses become overcrowded and slow. If you’re lucky, a snow day will be called, and you can skip school for the day or “work” from home.
There is something to be said for a season that simultaneously demands stillness and quiet, and play and frivolity. After all, ‘tis the season...! These kind of opposites are the heart of meditation. In meditation we’re actively doing nothing. It’s a fascinating contradiction. Yet the practise comes in finding the space in the contradiction.
May you be able to find some stillness in the hectic pace leading up to the festive season. Hopefully, at least for most of my northern hemisphere readers, you'll have some snow to help you find it.
In Fort Collins, we’re in the middle of a delicious snow storm. It is seriouslycold outside. It wasn’t until I moved to London two years ago that I was able to appreciate the magic of snow. And it really is magical. The way the world turns into sparkling white, the way air smells crisp and fresh. You come across snow-people built into the footpath. Grown-ups are outplaying. It’s awesome.
In London, snow brings an element of inconvenience too. The lack of regularly falling frozen precipitation means the infrastructure can’t really cope. Public transport becomes a nightmare as train lines are closed, and buses become overcrowded and slow. If you’re lucky, a snow day will be called, and you can skip school for the day or “work” from home.
There is something to be said for a season that simultaneously demands stillness and quiet, and play and frivolity. After all, ‘tis the season...! These kind of opposites are the heart of meditation. In meditation we’re actively doing nothing. It’s a fascinating contradiction. Yet the practise comes in finding the space in the contradiction.
May you be able to find some stillness in the hectic pace leading up to the festive season. Hopefully, at least for most of my northern hemisphere readers, you'll have some snow to help you find it.
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