Snow

I am currently in the process of surviving my first urban snowstorm, and today, I went for a walk to survey the damage. Really, there was none. They sky was grey, the ground was white, and the people were all bright and colorful jackets, scarves, and hats. And everything seemed endlessly more peaceful than on a usual Sunday before Christmas in Edmonds. People were walking to their destinations, sledding on closed roads, spending time with family over warm beverages. The sounds of cars were nearly nonexistent.

When I made it to the Edmonds Bookshop, I had already been out a half hour and it was time to warm-up. I went in with the sole intention of browsing till I could feel my hands again and then splitting for the beach. I should have known, however, that I can't go into a bookstore without buying something, so I ended up putting a copy of Michael Chabon's Maps and Legends on hold. It's his only non-fiction, a book about writing, and it's cover was stunning. Three layers of colorful landscaping covered a charcoal binding, the words "Michael Chabon" and "Maps and Legends" inscribed artfully (ie by hand) on the front. It displayed the Vikings, knights, cavemen, jungle men, and monkey kings all harmoniously moving about the image. There was no way I couldn't buy it.

Once that was over, I headed to Brackett's Landing. The snow snuggled up to the edge of the waves (though there were none), and the flakes disappeared into the perfectly still Sound. Out on the peer, the story was much the same. It was much colder, but still just as calm on the water. The snow in the air created a much shorter sight range, and I felt like I was in La Push again, staring out into the endless Pacific.

There was almost no sound. The waves the ducks congregating in the warmer waters created as they dove across the sea, playing with each other or collecting food. The sea lion huffing his breath as he dove in and out of the depths. The hum of the ferry as it docked and undocked, traveling to Kingston and back. The bells on the one sailboat nearby in the port, calling to the sea. The wind was silent, yet strong.

It was the first place of true peace I have ever found. It was the calm after the storm. Every animal around me joined in my relief as we hovered over the slow movements of the water. We sat together in this moment, breathing the cold air, warming our feet near the sea, and thinking of nothing but how wonderful life is sometimes. It wasn't until after I left that I realized I had not even thought of a single thing that had been bothering me before. Every worry disappeared before I even realized it. Expectations melted with snow in the lapping currents. I was free to tend to my true nature, outside the modern world. I was happy.

That's what snow does to a person, if you let it. I t shuts down the world without even hope of reviving it, and if you embrace the momentary peace, you might find yourself sledding with thirty other working people down one of the busiest streets in town because it's too steep to drive on. Or maybe you'll find yourself packed into a cafe downtown in your snow boots, listening to seasonal music, when you'd normally be meeting with a client or out shopping for gifts. Or maybe you have snow tires and a four-wheel-drive and you're already at the mall. But in any case, the snow storm is the one thing we Pacific Northwesterners have to count on when we just need a guilt-free break from life. Our worlds suddenly become that much smaller, isolated by the clouds in the sky, by the joy of letting go of everything in our daily schedule.

So I encourage everyone living through this incredible snow to embrace it. Say, Fuck my 9 o'clock meeting; I am stuck here with my family on the Sunday before Christmas - and I fucking love it.