The snow fell and the world grew quiet. It seemed that the universe was affording us a much needed pause, an opportunity to be still and reflect. The snow appeared to be our ally, a guardian made of ice crystals wearing a blanket of muted white.
And so, we rested. We agreed that no decisions needed to be made, no projects required completion, no questions needed to be answered, no horizons needed to be explored or ideas pursued. No experience needed defending. No choices required justification. We welcomed our exhaustion and sank into it like a soothing warm bath. Prior to rejuvenation, we recognized the utter imperative of emptying space, the necessity of draining the glass completely so it might someday be fully refilled.
Later I marveled how rare it is in my experience to rest. To truly rest. To just rest. To give myself permission to be. To hold no thoughts, to hold no grudges, to hold no importance, to hold no intention. To open hands and heart and let go. It is not in either of our natures to do nothing.
On a sunny day we would not have been capable of absolute rest. Had it been a sunny warm spring day, our empty tank, our need for rejuvenation, would likely have taken a different route. We would have walked. We would have recounted and debriefed. We would have puzzled. We would have made pictures. We would have turned our faces toward the warm sun piercing the cool breeze.
Instead, the snow-ally brought us a surprise gift. A rare and welcome opportunity. A noiseless mind. A quiet heart. A clean white slate made of a deep appreciation for the essential things.
read Kerri’s blogpost about SNOW
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Filed under: Gratitude, Two Artists Tuesday | Tagged: ally, artistry, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, empty space, essential, exhaustion, guardian, intention, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, noiseless, opportunity, peace, permission, quiet mind, rejuvenation, rest, silence, snow, story, studio melange, the melange |
The Direction of Intention 
Our illnesses, both mental and physical, make it difficult for us to do as you described. But once in a while we manage it.
This seems to take place when standing in the back of our wooded property. We then notice the quietness with only a few small birds communicating with one another.
I am remembering Robert Frost’s poem regarding his sleigh on a cold and starry night in a forest. He stropped the horse in order to observe the cold crisp winter stars and noted how queer his horse acted due to this sudden pause. Frost knew about rejuvenation and inner peace.
XOXO -B & C
Stillness is always difficult in our loud noisy world. I’m glad you have the back of your wooded property – everyone should have a place where they can note the quiet and discover the birdsong. xo-back-at-you