Snow Fort
When I grew up in Michigan the winters were longgggggggggg…
And grey.
The thing was that we had GIANT snowfalls of two feet, sometimes.
The drifts were spectacular.
When the wind died, I started carving those giant mounds of snow and eventually had an igloo kind of thing.
I created this snow architecture in the neighboring field.
Hidden.
Here, in Santa Fe, we’re having alot of snow but not the fort-building kind.
Those days are past, I’m afraid.
I miss the warm half-light inside my igloo.
It was so quiet yet all the natural sounds were amplified; branches cracking, bird calls, dripping icicles.
I thought I could hear my own blood.
I see now that those days were the beginning of my love of silence.
I seldom listen to music except some Motown in the car sometimes.
If I pick out a CD to play it never seems to match my mood and I don’t want to be drawn away into someone else’s world.
I remember when that’s ALL I wanted… to be taken.
So, these days at home, the most stimuli my taxed nervous system can tolerate is some Renaissance Lute.
It’s interesting how noisy even meditation can be.
So, on this snowy day, I am hungering for that little girl’s snow fort surrounded by yellow winter grasses and a still blue sky, big enough to stretch out in and listen.
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