Friday, December 10, 2010

Winter Pause

This morning on my run, as I listened to the crunch of partially frozen earth beneath my shoes, my brain was filled with its usual ramblings and concerns. At one point, I actually thought to myself, "Have I even thought this whole time about what I'm doing right now, or am I just completely in my head?" Why can't I just put my brain on pause for once?

Well, this morning, mother nature paused it for me. As I trudged through the recesses of stored up memories and worries, a few flakes started to fall from the sky. I took note of this, but kept up with my brain-centric ways. Then, all of a sudden, it was as if the sky took a breath. The scant flakes that had been floating to the ground, tentatively, ceased, and there was a pause all around me. Even the dogs seemed to take a moment. And, like the beginning of a beautiful song, the sky released a symphony of huge flakes that fell to the ground with true intention.

I breathed out a big sigh as I watched my surroundings take on a new identity, a hint of snow dust slowly turning into a solid covering.

Then, finally, my brain was quiet, hushed by this blanket of new snow, our first of the year.

Thank you for that, Winter.