I am stuck. Stuck in a snowstorm. Unable to get home. All because a half-mile of dirt road between the cottage and main highway is plugged with five-foot snowdrifts. Impassable.
We tried to get out, but only ended up burying the car. And after an hour of shoveling, were finally able to dislodge the snow from underneath the Jeep, do a careful u- turn and head back to the cottage nestling in safely, wondering when we might be freed.
Snow. Nature. Wind.
It is beautiful here staring out the window watching the waves carve ice sculptured-mounds along Lake Michigan’s shoreline.
Amazed as the spray of winter’s frigid mist lifts itself airborne.
The wind squalls vibrate the windows with their loud low moans, blasting the landscape with blinding walls of snow.
Even the sun joins earth mother’s dance, peaking for a moment from behind blizzard clouds with a picturesque white grin.
Outside it’s beautiful.
Inside I feel stuck.
Helpless. Not in control. Wondering whether the snowplow will come through tonight or in the early morning to clear a path toward home. Concerned I might be stuck here for 2-3 days if they don’t.
As I sit observing my both-and feelings of agitation and tranquility, I am reminded how much of the time I live outside the present moment.
If only I would sit still, watch nature unfold her beauty before me and connect with the divine in this moment, then I might be peaceful, and view my being stranded as a gift.
Am I really stuck? I ask myself.
Or am I being given a chance to slow down, relax, and be present to the beauty and power of nature?
A chance to write and ponder.
A sacred space to reconnect with nature’s power and rhythm.
A time to renew my wintered soul.