Even the cold can be beautiful


I walk off the streetcar, glad to be free of that closed in space, not even warm but somewhere halfway between warm and cold, so that you almost wished it were completely cold, so you could at least have one or the other.  As I come off the steps I am stepping back into the cold, into the dark, into the brightness of the snow that somehow outweighs these two things.  I cross the street and walk down it, turning into the little side street that will lead me home.  

The snow is falling all around me.  Sparkling snowflakes falling in the moonlight, covering everything.  The ground before me is a blanket of snow... and I wonder if everything under the snow is warm, under this beautiful pure white blanket... and beautiful it is, too, sparkling with life... it's almost as if God took a container of glitter and shook it over the world... that's probably very close to the truth, in fact...  have you ever been out at night and seen the snow glitter like that?  It really is magical... I never remember the snow glittering before...

I can feel my toes cold inside their socks, and I am aware of the cold wind blowing against my face as well... and I think of the warmth awaiting me in a few minutes; I imagine myself in bed, warm under the covers, no more cold toes, fingers, nose... with this thought in mind I give myself back fully to the cold, ready to experience it for what it is since I am already here.

I love contrast.  For how could I truly know warmth, if I did not experience cold?  How could I truly know what it is like to be loved, if I had never experienced what it was like to be without love?  How could I truly know the joy of being light hearted and content had I not experienced the despair of being in pain and unhappy?  And so the cold, and being unloved, and being unhappy, all these things are my friends, for they are experiences that allow me to have other, different experiences.  I've forgotten what its like to be bored.  I truly no longer know the meaning of the word; I am even unable to feel it.  For only those that don't experience can be bored... and for so long I didn't experience, and had no contrast, and so boredom was constant.  But now... now.  Life came up to me and said hello, sorry I took so long, but here I am.  And Life gave me experience... it gave me cold and warm, it gave me joy and pain, it gave me contrast, it gave me Itself.  

And so the cold is my friend, for it makes me realize the true beauty of warmth; and so warmth is my friend, for it makes me realize the true beauty of cold.

I look up at the moon and my heart is glad to see it; Luna... I call out in a whisper, and the moon calls back with her soft glow of light, spreading out from her to occupy a space in the sky seven times her size.  I watch this glow in between the trees, who's branches are covered in clumps of snow here and there, so that it almost resembles the way the snow falls in my hair... and I smile inside, thinking of those huge trees, with snow caught in their hair just as mine is, experiencing the same thing that I am...

As I walk by a parked car I reach out my mittened hand and make two dots in the snow gathered on the window, and then a semi circle turned upwards underneath.  It smiles at me, and I smile back at it, and we both understand each other, somehow, in that moment of stillness and falling snow.  In the traces I've made with my mitten, I leave an imprint of my love, in the hopes that the owner of this car may notice it tomorrow morning when he leaves for work, and take a few seconds out of his world of cold and hurry, and smile at it as I smiled.  And if he does, we shall be One.  And if he doesn't, we shall be One all the same.

I love the feel of snow falling on my face, of snow flakes tickling my face, landing in my eye lashes and blurring my site before they melt, softly brushing past my face, almost as if they were whispering hello, but landing somewhere else... one would think that so many snow flakes falling would make at least some sort of sound... there are so many!  but no, they are silent... even if you went up close to one you could not hear it fall.  

And the silence... its all around me, and its just as tangible as the snow is.  The only thing I can hear is the sound of my boots as they step on the snow, softly crunching... The silence and the snow are sacred to me.  Each flake of snow is aware of me, and I am as aware of each one of them; each moment of silence is aware of my every breath, and I am aware of the awesome silence, and my spirit is moved to a moment of tender reverence.

I am moved to share something, to be a part of this wonderful moment, and a note comes tentatively from my voice, testing the space, seeing if the snow and the silence and the moon will accept it.  The note rises, and then falls, becomes part of the cold, somehow, and part of the snow falling, and I let myself be silent, for I realize I already am part of this magic, of this silence... I am the snow falling, and sparkling, and I am the glow of the moon, and the silence, and the music in between the silence.

View dolphin's Full Portfolio