Snow in Spring

Sometimes it snows in spring. Sometimes it even snows in summer. Life has a way of surprising us and challenging what we think should be happening. We may be getting out the gardening tools or enjoying the flowers and warmth of spring when the world suddenly turns white and everything we are doing no longer makes sense. When things don’t go to plan, how we respond can make all the difference in the way we experience what comes next. Do we acknowledge the feelings that arise, or do we push them away? Do we brace against the moment or move with it? Do we allow thoughts to come and go like clouds in the sky, or do we become lost in the script of the story we are telling ourselves? Once, when I was a child, a couple of friends and I decided to go winter camping. It was a spur-of-the-moment idea, and though we were only twelve years old, my parents simply said “have fun.” After quickly raiding the fridge for supplies and stuffing a wholly inadequate number of blankets into a garbage bag, we located an old two-person tent that we were confident three of us could squeeze into. We left on foot from my house, walking down dirt roads, through snowy farm fields, and across several half-frozen streams, balancing on logs to try to keep our clothes dry. Eventually we chose our camp spot in some neighbor’s wooded land. We felt brave and adventurous and ready for anything.

Before long, the sun had set and night was upon us, much harsher and colder than we had expected. Piling into the tent, we readied ourselves for the many dark and cold hours that lay ahead. After much fitful sleep, tossing and turning, stealing of blankets, shivering, and freezing, we finally celebrated the coming of dawn. It had been hard, but we had survived! Frozen as we were but happy and filled with pride, we packed our things in the still dark predawn and began our long walk home, like knights returning from an epic quest. Upon reaching my house, we were surprised to see lights on and wondered who would be awake so early in the morning.

Stepping through the door only led to more confusion, as we found the living room almost as we had left it, full of family gathered on couches watching television. “Why are you all up?” we asked. “Why are you home so early?” they responded. Looking at a clock for the first time, we saw that it was not morning; the sun was not about to rise. Our long night of shivering in reality had only been a couple hours of an endlessly long winter evening. The “predawn” we had experienced had not been the sun close to the horizon but rather the moon rising behind the clouds. Our experience had felt real to us. We had faced challenge, struggle, adventure, fear, and doubt—and ultimately triumph—yet, so much of it had been made up. After the confusion and disappointment about not making it through the night, we eventually were able to let go and laugh about it all.

In our day-to-day lives, we often make up stories about what we think is happening. We see the sun about to rise even when it is not. We can be certain of things that simply are not true. When our version of reality turns out to be quite different from what is actually unfolding, instead of laughing we may feel a lot of pain. This does not mean that what we are experiencing isn’t real or valid; rather, it’s an invitation to step back and take in a bigger-picture perspective. Are we confusing the clouds for the sky?

Consider what might shift for us if we lean into the present-moment experience that exists beyond our stories about it? If it has snowed, it has snowed. It may be spring, summer, our wedding or birthday, but the weather is simply the weather. When we open to the clear immediacy of the moment, there is room for everything that arises. We can honor our thoughts and feelings, make space for our own experience, and then choose how to respond wisely.

Try: There is a simple and powerful practice that I learned during a workshop with Tara Brach that can help us called the 3 Ps: Pause, Presence, and Proceed.¹ It is helpful at all times but especially when we sense some collection of thoughts and feelings stirring on the landscape of our being, a strong weather system brewing in our body and mind. After a few times getting used to the flow, you can practice this meditation with only 20–30 seconds on each of the steps, making it an easy go-to meditation to use multiple times throughout your day.

PAUSE. Begin by bringing your attention to the inflow or outflow of your breath, the rising and falling of the abdomen or chest perhaps. With just a few breaths witnessed in this way, you are already showing up more fully to what is happening.

PRESENCE. Next scan through the body. Feel the contact of your feet with the ground or the weight of your arms resting at your side. Gently notice any physical sensations throughout your body as you bring the light of awareness to shine on different areas. Allow sounds to come to the forefront of your attention for a moment. Close and far, pleasant or unpleasant. Just sense what is around you to be sensed. Finally, allow your thoughts and emotions to be known, letting whatever wants to rise to the surface to do so, not needing to search anything out. Compassionately opening to whatever is present and sensing that like the wind, everything ebbs and flows. Letting all these feelings move through the open space of your mind, part of you but not who you are.

PROCEED. Now, consciously resume your day, your task, or agenda but with a sense of letting everything simply move through you like clouds across an endless vast sky.