I woke to snow-silence on Friday. This is a different kind of silence from simple absence of sound; it has a different texture. It snowed from 7pm on Thursday to midday on Saturday – without respite.
Yes, I know London got 5 inches – I’ve seen pictures – and the city came to a halt. We had snow-cancellations here too – but that was with 22 inches in Boulder and nearly 40 here.
Snowed in, snow cancelled, snow silence. Alone in the house, this should have provided wonderful opportunity for writing & reflection – but somehow didn’t. Perhaps the meteorological phenomenon was just too immense, perhaps the awe and wonder at nature was all there was, or perhaps simply the pathetic fallacy…
This made me think about the following:
What are the ideal conditions for introspection, thinking, writing, being? When are individuals at their most creative?
Some people write more when depressed, others find writing deserts them at such times.
What are the ideal conditions to foster creative or reflective writing? How do you nurture that relationship? What do you need? Is it solitude or bustle? Inside or out?
Write a dialogue with solitude.
The snow swirls down without substance,
As though gravity were an accident of faith
If we all stopped believing
would it never land?
As I look out of the window again – that could be snow…..