Snow Fort

snowfort

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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