Listening for snow falling on snow

The last two days in Durham, North Carolina have produced roughly a foot of snow. That is a lot in any NC winter storm. That's a whole lot in early December.

Today, the second day of flakes falling from the sky, had me pulling from the shelf Robert J. Wicks excellent book on Spiritual Landscape, Snow Falling on Snow.

I am struck by a section called Listening (page 41):

Wicks writes: "One of the reasons listening is a rare gift today is that so many of us (possibly because of our anxiety) strive too hard to do something useful or to be immediately helpful in some tangible way. The problem is that in the process of doing this we fail to really listen to a person's pain. In becoming stressed out ourselves over what we need to do to be "successful" with someone in need, we often fail to realize the pure value that is listening, in and of itself. Furthermore, when we're not observing the situation for what it really is, we not only miss a chance for understanding, but occasionally may even make the situation worse by acting too impulsively."

Today is a great day to listen to the sound of snow falling on snow. That's no easy work. There is really not much sound, but then there is. Other sounds become quite distinct if we will listen for a while longer. 

the need for seasons, the need for change

This is a part of Joni Mitchell's, River:

But it don’t snow here
It stays pretty green
I’m going to make a lot of money
Then I’m going to quit this crazy scene
I wish I had a river
I could skate away on

Reminds me of Neil Diamond's, I am, I said:

L.A.'s fine, the sun shines most the time
And the feeling is "lay back"
Palm trees grow and rents are low
But you know I keep thinkin' about
Making my way back

Both lament southern California at the holidays. It's too green, too warm. There are other relationships that are troubling for these writers, human relationships, but it resonates that the trouble is set in the context of seasonal trouble. If the weather is not right, too dark, too cold, too warm, too different from what you remember, the whole world can get out of balance.

I felt this way all of my winters in Florida, 1983 - 1995. I wanted to be back in the Carolinas. I didn't want to be at the North Pole, but 40 degrees would have been nice. It was generally too warm to be Christmastime. It put me in a bad mood during the month of December, in a funk, that I struggle to pull out of these last 30 years. I get you Joni. I get you Neil. Mitchell's River has become a holiday classic. The irony means the there really is room for whatever change has come and is coming as the year comes to an end. If you don't feel great, don't pretend that you do. Maybe we don't need to pretend to be happy at the holidays if we are not. It doesn't mean you don't welcome the new year or the birth of a savior. There are viable justifications for having a tough time at the year's end.