My brain is fairly empty this evening. I finally seem to have approached some measure of possible success after only a day wasted trying. We’ll see.
Snow has been coming down all the day, all the trees are covered in white, a gentle whisper of falling flakes is heard. Such a surprise, such an unexpected delight. I am frustrated by tasks, and need only to look and listen to restore some peace. All is truly well. Light fog rolls past, in no hurry. A raven calls repeatedly. At this hour? Yes, though I’ve never heard one after dark. It is moving away, flying and searching.
All the limbs droop with the white weight. I am delighted because of the stress these trees sustained this past week, being battered and broken by needed surgery. They had taken care, but some were very hurt. I even spent a while bandaging their wounds, wrapping limbs together, covering the gashes with special paste. Yes, I am a tree hugger. To be honest, I would do the same for anything at this point. The trees are my only companions. Some will live– a fir which was sideswiped by an enormous falling trunk, losing half of its limbs on one side; a sapling cedar already as tall as me, though still young, with large wounds exposed. Another fir on this side of the house will also likely survive the damage, though was bent and broken in several spots. I worry about the oak in front. Split down the middle, the tiny trunk cut through. Buds were emerging on the branches, and so I had hope for it. Not now, but we will see, I did what I could.
So the snow is beautiful indeed, and it is also welcomed. For it is cold and wet, slowing down the possible damage, making the ground wet. The fog in the air as well gives moisture to the trees and plants which needed it so much even before the loggers came through. Now, it is a chance to slow down and recover, to be soothed by the weather, rather than assaulted by heat and disease and insect.
I needed this today, my frustration growing at tasks I little enjoy. Making do is always difficult, when our goals exceed our resources. Sometimes, on days like this, I see such irritations as a form of penance. Whether the irritations come from real punishment for misdeeds or not, I take such issues as just desserts. I know my sins, though few else do, and feel some measure of appropriate attack is proper, if not desired.
I also find that doing this is precisely what I need. What I sought to avoid last night is the very medicine my soul needs. I must look and see, noticing the bright greens of the trees, covered in a frosting of white. My windsock too is bright green and white (white enough to reflect the sun or other light), so it matches the world around perfectly. It however is fluttering wild in the wind, unlike the snow laden branches.
This matching is what I want as well, to feel in tune, to feel at rest, to feel the fitting as complementary colors might. Such a delight it is to look outside.
During my waiting for computer tasks to complete I pulled out a book of theology. Pannenberg was the choice, my favorite of the recent theologians. He makes me think so much, not just in what he says, also in how he inspires my mind to soar. Reading though is like exercise. What I could have taken in with some measure of ease a year ago, I now find taxing. I haven’t read formal theology for a long while, and though I love it, I can’t sustain it. So, there is only to continue trying.
Reading Gibbon before I go to sleep is an odd change from my normal fiction habits, and seems to fit the fact that my mind is again growing anxious for academic fare.
I weary of want, and I weary of work done without reward. It taps on my soul, though I realize the benefits as well. The most difficult part is knowing that people don’t understand, they don’t see in me what I see. Some do, and those I value.
This is why monasteries exist, I suppose, of any kind, whether religious types or art colonies. Like minded people are helped by being around others similar.
So, all these things mingle in my mind, hope and want coalesce with delight and joy.
Now, I shiver from the cold of the entering wind, my window letting in the cool air, and gentle scent. All is so very quiet on a snow filled day. Truly this was, if I as a Christian can say, a day of yin and yang. Opposing forces, teaching opposite truths.
I prefer the beauty and truth of the rolling fog and meditative scenes of waning Winter entering into Spring’s youth. It is much better for my soul, as just the last fifteen minutes shows so well.