SNOWY COMPANIONS
The Isolation Blues;
reflections during covid-19
Last Sunday morning we had our first significant snow of snow season ’20-’21, about 10 inches of heavy, snow-ball pack snow. It was a Christmas card perfect snowfall, clinging to the trees and covering everything in fluffy white insulation, a fresh start of a new winter season – burying the remnants of Fall as a distant memory. As I was skiing to my mother’s house for a visit, the trees along the trail were laden down with snow – the white birch bending under the weight until they touched the snowy ground. Skiing along the edge of these white bending trees it was as if they were bowing to me as I passed by. Initially, it made me uncomfortable, in the same way any compliment directed my way creates a conundrum of how to respond, but the long line of trees all bending down to me on my skis was too much to defer – in the pristine, silent white of this falling snow and bowing trees I had to relent to the moment, to something I had never quite experienced before, homage to me, just me as I skied across the snow. It was a deeply humbling moment (I truly did not feel I merited such attention) but the trees would not relent – they kept bowing, prostrate to the ground in deep recognition of me. These great white giants dwarfed my diminutive profile as I skied along. One white-hooded 30 foot fir tree hunched forward in my direction as if to nod its approval.
When you attend a spiritual retreat they are oftentimes conducted in silence where there is plenty of time for prayer, contemplation, mindfulness practices, work practice and also lots of bowing. It’s interesting, as the retreat goes on, you start to find yourself bowing to everything and everyone. Bowing is a sign of respect and recognition of the special-divine in that person or object in front of you. Bowing is a relinquishing of our ego-self. We practice letting go of our self-importance for a moment and open our self to someone else. This year I’m skiing by larger than life white trees bowing down to me as I go. And I’m still skiing by these trees, every day this week. I thought it might be over after a day or maybe two, but it is ongoing. I’m even starting to get a little more comfortable with all the bowing. These trees have become snowy companions during this December season.
I bow to them as well.
And I bow to you.
I bow to my coffee cup.
These days I’m learning to bow to everything…
In the woods,
Dave
December 17, 2020