9:21 AM

This morning, the snow is falling in buoyant wet, chunks, and I sacrifice my normal routine of meditating on a pillow in a softly-lit space for sitting on my bed, watching the snow fall gently on the trees, just feet away from my gentle perch.

I know. Radical move.

Spring snow produces a rain/snow mix, wet and burdensome for the branches straining to support its weight. I see this happening just beyond the bench underneath my window, and it breaks my heart a little. It's not the weight of the snow, or the strain on the trees...it's the beauty of it.

Life as I often experience it is so full, so busy, so distracting, that a simple exercise like sitting by a window to observe the falling snow is foreign, and emotional. Given quiet moments like this one, my normal pattern would be to allow thoughts of the day, needs of others around me, household duties, or the list of benign to-dos to pour into the space and time available like concrete, either weighing me down or leading into urgent or frenzied activity. Or worse, I could be compelled to fixate on a pool of ever-available anxious thoughts and work myself into a sense of powerlessness, or sadness.

Snow like this, slanted, fat and rhythmically consistent, is one of Nature's favorite magic tricks, slowing down what on warmer days would just be rain, so we can watch it falling in slow motion. Special effects. I slow down with it, gently led into the spiritual, mystical act of observing the world I've been born into.

Frenzy doesn't seem to fit into a moment like this one, but, truthfully, the sadness is here even now, mixed in with awe and wonder at the resilience, the provision written into Nature's magical blueprints. Like the whipped frosting snow clumps building into mounds on the branches outside my window, beauty, like this, is often weighted with its fragility, its temporal nature. At the very same moment we experience the loveliness of something like snow, we are also aware of the melting. Is it even possible to enjoy the moment without anticipating its end?

I don't want to challenge my feelings, but the slow motion encourages me to be an observer, to pay attention. To see and feel everything that's right here, with me, right now. Space.

Feeling something like I do today, I wrote "Expectant" Thanksgiving Day, 2015, in appreciation of the expansion that quiet moments offer, especially moments inspired by something greater, bigger, than just my own thoughts.

Ex.pect.ant - having or showing an excited feeling that something is about to happen, especially something pleasant and interesting. Synonyms: eager...psyched...hopeful


Slanted snow presses against the atmosphere
broadening the stakes of my tent
tapping at the horizon 
with icy stimulation
spontaneous urgency
when it dawns on me that
we are all pregnant with goodness, expectant
and voluptuous with warmth and wonder

Copyright © 2017 Laury Boone Browning

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