The illusion of control

Have you noticed how silent the world falls when it snows? There is a mesmerising silence as you look up at the foggy sky and revel in each of the magically crafted flakes of snow that gently land on your face.

As everything turns white, the world goes quiet. In places where it doesn’t snow often, this becomes all the more obvious. Because everything just suddenly stops functioning. The entire state paralyses because the city has been covered with a white blanket of frozen ice. Screeching, terrifying messages are sent alerting citizens to avoid movement as if there is a lethal peril out there. But when it starts to snow again, nothing really matters. Everything we think we can control is out of our reach. It is just an illusion that we can control so many of the external factors that affect our lives. Because the weather and its consequences are one thing we can do nothing about. We just wait for the whatever-named-hailstorm to pass, so we can continue our chaotic lives.

Snow is a chance to stop. To stop and marvel at how wonderful even the simplest and smallest of things can be. Look at how delicately and elegantly a snowflake is designed right before it falls to the ground and melts. Look at how every single thing you view daily (but never really notice on your hasty way to work or wherever your routine takes you) transforms simply because it is covered in white.

Sure, snow causes trouble too. But let’s stick to the positive here.

Listen. Listen to that beautiful silence as the world surrenders to these tiny flakes of ice. Just stop and take it all in, with all senses. And be grateful for all that we have but constantly want more.

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Cold days

©MCD_Snow

There is a game to play when you want to make a quick decision and you’re hesitating between two options. To resolve the dilemma, you’re told to ask yourself a series of questions with two answers; the key is to respond as rapidly as possible without thinking too much. So when you get to the query at hand, you’ll answer quickly enough to know how you truly feel about it. Speed here leads to authenticity.

One such question could be if you prefer to be too hot or too cold. But what really is the answer to that, without being season-sensitive concerning when you’re actually asking the question?

In summer, we’re likely to say we prefer being cold. And in winter, vice-versa.

But then a day comes, when snowfall begins unexpectedly – as suddenly as it may be given the week-long meteo warnings. And everything seems so much prettier. Snow makes everything appear happier, more magical, more walking-on-clouds-fluffy-paradise-bright. You don’t care if it’s cold when you’re dressing up like an eskimo, to walk outside like a penguin, to engage in snowball fights like a child. It doesn’t matter if you can’t feel your limbs, let alone your fingers when you’re gathering snow to build a perfect snowman. Amidst the laughter the snow day is causing, the cold is just a side-effect.

But when it all starts to melt, when the fluffy snowflakes turn into rock hard ice, when it’s too slippery to tread outside in the sludge, and when it’s so freaking freezing that it doesn’t even matter there is the sun in the sky, then, yes, you begin to consider that not everything is so lovely as it initially seems. Everything has its limits, and if you’re not prepared – without the infrastructure or mechanisms – to deal with extreme weather conditions, the problems caused can be life-threatening.

Perhaps the cold is something that can be solved with a warm house (via a fireplace or radiator at least), a cosy blanket, a hot beverage, good company, and some entertainment. Perhaps even the temperature is something we control in our minds. But the truth is, cold makes you shut down to preserve energy.

We want days off because we’re too cold to move. But if we were moving in the first place, we might not feel the cold too much…

Frozen paws

There was no sign of it in the morning. Even before the sun was out, there was frost in the atmosphere and it was freezing. But it was expected to stay dry. It was in the midst of winter, however, and snow was always a possibility.

Not even a half hour had passed when the first snowflake hit the windshield.

The Chihuahua inside the warm vehicle got excited. As if it had understood the magic that was happening. It began to hop on the seat, stretching out its little tongue as if to lick the snowflakes that began to mount on the glass in front of it.

The driver next to the small dog was smiling. Not only because of the white scenery that began to spread rapidly now; but mainly due to the unexpected reaction from his four-legged friend.

When the road began to become more slippery, they slowed down. Caution was required.

That was when the little dog pinned its eyes outside a certain spot on the window and began to bark. Its tail was elongated like a needle.

The driver stopped and got outside.

The snow was even denser now. You could almost feel it falling on you. The Chihuahua managed to slip outside just before the car door closed.

There in front of them, near some snow-covered bushes was a furry bagel-like-circle. You could barely make out its pointy ears and fluffy tail. The snowflakes had almost engulfed it.

The dog’s owner approached cautiously and extended his hand. The fox opened its eyes. It didn’t move. Perhaps it was too scared. Or perhaps it was too numb from the cold. Its piercing blue-green eyes almost begged for help.

The driver picked it up without breaking the circle it had sat in. Inside the warmth of the car, the fox fluffed up its fur and almost appeared to smile.

The Chihuahua was happy. It didn’t want to be enjoying the luxury of a refuge when some other co-animal was freezing outside. Just because you’re safe, doesn’t mean everyone else is too.

Snowy mistletoe

The first snowflakes had hit the ground early at dew point. He was sleeping when they arrived. But that was the best surprise.

When he woke up, a white velvet carpet was awaiting him outside his window. The door needed a hard shove in order to open.

And then, as the frozen air slammed his face, it hit him. It was mid December. That season when everything suddenly seems so much nicer, so much more peaceful, more wonderful. The sparkling lights appeared even more brightly coloured now with the snowy background. People were more cheerful and smiles were abundant. It didn’t matter that it was so cold.

The only thing that mattered was that another year was slowly exiting, and everyone was striving to account for everything that had passed during these 12 months. It had to be good, so that the next ones would be even better and more fruitful.

It is the time when dreams are revived, ambitions reinvigorated, and emotions rekindled.

So when he saw the bright red mistletoe gleaming under the snowflakes on his frontfoor, he consciously knew that there will always be a light shining no matter how dark it gets. Surviving, no matter the weather.