A few weeks ago a blizzard (nemo) moved in on Boston and sent everyone home. For the first time since we’ve moved here, the highway outside our window emptied. Two feet of snow covered everything. All night our apartment building groaned as the wind pushed and pulled under the lilac sky.
The most beautiful thing I have seen in Boston yet: streetlights capped with snow, rolling from red to green over an empty road.
Nature takes over and no matter how important of a businessman you are, you have to go home like everyone else. Nature can quiet an entire city, override the program that we insist we can’t tear ourselves from, and force us to spend two days—what, cooking? watching movies? reading? Whatever you want, really.
Of course we need to go to our jobs, make appointments, attend classes and run errands, but don’t we do enough of that? We don’t take enough breaks. When was the last time you allowed your world to become quiet?
Sometimes during meditation, if I’m lucky, for a moment nature takes over. Everything stops running and clears out. For half a moment my mind is a city buried in snow. There is silence and the heavy whoosh of wind passing through. I’m not going anywhere or coming from anywhere, I’m not late, I’m not early. I’m just here, at home.