Snow, Snow, Snow!

If the room is filled with a cool white light and the air smells crisp like apples and fresh laundry, then you can tell that it has snowed before you even open your eyes.

I remember the joy of smelling snow as a child, and jumping out of bed to see if it was true.

Yes, Snow! I still feel the joy, but I don’t jump out of bed. I say to my nearest tousled headed child, ‘Look out the window, it has snowed’, and they believe I have magical powers.

I make magic happen. I think that is what mothers do, and some of it is quite a bit of work. I have occasionally cursed myself for creating magical characters like Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny for the children.

The magic gets harder to pull off as they grow older and eventually you may have to admit it was all a happy myth.

I have friends who don’t indulge in these particular myths, but I find it funny that they are perfectly comfortable with the biggest lie of all, that there is a God and he is looking after us.

But we don’t talk about that, because despite our religious differences, we are very fond of each other and share similar styles of living.

I have quite a lot of friends who believe in God. But they are not Church going types; they believe deeply and privately and in a sort of passionate way that I respect.

I don’t believe Jesus is my Saviour, but I do believe that he may have existed at one point and influenced a lot of people.

I believe that Life is eternal and unknowable, and I believe that our life on earth is a mystery. I feel the joy of people gathering and singing: choirs or Rasta songs, it is communal joy.  We have to share to survive.

I don’t know what I believe, only that the spiritual world is unknowable.

And so I understand the concept of Faith. I can see that at a certain point we have to turn off our churning brains and feel the passion of Life.

One thought on “Snow, Snow, Snow!

  1. i love this piece, I read it as a long rapping poetry, a kind of jamming slam of love and starshine – it starts with magic and ends up with passion, who could not love that. I love they way the words fall out of order, the organic movement, the freedom and joy with which it was written, I love that the feelings remain ephemeral and diffused with meaning that can not be caught, enunciated, delineated but just tumble freefalling like snowflakes. I love the ruminations rumi like on the nature of faith and belief, that god is like new snow. I sing this song, my heart hears the contentment in your voice, and I have faith in the magic of laughter, or autumn colours, of a child playing, a sunrise, anything that is so beautiful so that it catches your breath and you feel a wild sense of belonging to something grand, wild and wonderful.


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