Snow is a catalyst

I was inspired by my friend, Lori Taylor, to write a sentiment that I've long felt, but never expressed in writing. I've noticed an astonishingly parallel plot line as I've grown older. It's faint and seldom visible, but follows me diligently, a Gollum with no aim beyond curiosity about how I will react to it. Many large themes in the Venn diagram of my life have begun to appear within that portion of my experience labeled "Snow".

When I was a kid, I needed no excuse (and used every one I could muster) to play in snow. We had some remarkable snowfalls in my youth, and I love making snow caves and forts and men and having snowball fights. The lack of responsibilities made loving snow impossibly easy in those days. As I grew up and began to be exposed to media expressing more adult viewpoints, I began to notice a bitterness among responsible, productive members of society regarding snow. It seemed to be a great standby in conversation that if nothing better came to mind, relaying the degree to which one detests snow would invariably find some inkling of common ground in the relationship. Again, in stark parallel to this idea other things that I took for granted, things I had no reason to question were suddenly called childish. There was erected a great framework of rules, roles and expectations that became the definition of my breeding, success and, to some extent, value to society. And this is not to understate the purpose of this structure; there is certainly great influence and beauty to be shared striving toward a life full of order and discipline. However, as I began to be instructed and participate in the rituals of our culture, I was profoundly blessed by a lesson that seems to elude many people. In the midst of the whirlwind of adolescence and the discovery of my place in the community, one of my teachers gave me a key that I will never forget. He taught us to "take play seriously". It was somewhat of a revelation to my young adult mind that the truss-work of discipline that I had warmed to and finally accepted wasn't the end-all in life. There is another vital part that consists of what looks like selfish indulgence in comparison to the hard work and productivity that are so necessary to provide for one's self. It struck a chord with me only because there was an undeniable longing for the innocent energy that was so commonplace in my youth. This principal taught me that these two desires weren't mutually exclusive, but each was necessary to the other to realize their relative fruition. Snow, like innocence, is a structure in and of itself. It takes regularly setting aside time to practice the transfer from one mindset to another.

To this day I can use snow as a barometer for my attitude toward life. It should set off a red flag for me if the tedium of scooping snow ruins my unadulterated love of the way it completely transforms the world around me. Beyond that snow is the perfect play material, the still, muffled quiet of a recent snow lit by streetlamps never fails to take my breath away.

I'm sure there will be snow in heaven.