My living room is filled with windows. When one sits on the couch, in any direction looked, the panels give access to the world beyond these cottage clay walls. The cardinals play in the holly bushes beneath these window sills, and squirrels busy themselves in the trees beyond. Through every season there is so much beauty offered, though it is winter in which I find the most comfort.

I call it our snowglobe. As snowflakes drift from sky to ground, we sit warmly tucked in the middle.

It is magic, this radiant white light.

I do not love to venture out into the winter. I do not love being on the roads or the footstep crunch of ice, but warm within our snowglobe, time slows just right. This reminds me that, though nearly a year into this Pandemic way of life, we are still being called to slow. My own soul still needs this prompted reminder.

On an ideal day, this magical space within our globe smells of fresh baked cookies and is filled with the sound of vinyl records giving music life. Most days aren’t as idyllic as we’d like though, are they? On normal days, today type days, I am holed up in my office with the tiniest single window, showing me its pinhole views of the flurries outside. I work for myself, can’t I call a snow day?

Sure. I could, but also, more would fall on tomorrow, and more the day after that. Instead I sigh, sip my earl grey tea and hunker down to work. click. click. click.

I hope that, in the Great Beyond, I remember these moments. Both the tiny window-work day ones and the snow globe (or other season globe) views of life beyond the pane.

Beyond the pain… That’s kind of it, isn’t it? The point. We slave away to overstimulation and busy schedules (or at least we did, in the Great Before) because these are the most entertaining and/or productive ways to act out our denial. We pretend we’re “taking control”, but instead we are really drowning ourselves in the chaotic noise of anything but.

These January weeks within the snowglobe have left me challenging what it is that I understand about balance. Is it maintaining the work hours and also the rest? Is it tuning in to listen to what my inner soul is encouraging when it comes to needing solace and still? I’m finding that pre-pandemic, it wasn’t unreasonable to spend a day running errands, grabbing a coffee and spending a few coffee shop hours writing. This side of the topsy-turvy that feels incomprehensible. Back to back zoom meetings, while dressed in sweatpants and a messy bun, followed by a sixty minute writing session depletes my brain like a tree spout left on.

Today I will wrap up work and curl up on my couch, in a cozy throw. I will watch the snow swirling beyond the globe and sip something wonderful. I will realize that I leave the house so much less, and yet also seem to accomplish so much less within my days. It may not make sense in a pre-pandemic world, but in this snowglobe life of today, it kind of does.

It has to…