|Snow-dusted Field", watercolor and pastel,|
by Carol Engels
This morning we woke to a slight dusting of snow – just a brushing of whiteness on streets and stone walls and roofs – and it brought to my mind other kinds of dustings. Thoughts, for instance, seem to dust themselves across my life almost constantly. Falling as if from nowhere, thoughts of gladness, glory, sorrow, or purposelessness sprinkle themselves around me moment by moment. It’s as if every passing second sees a new assortment of thoughts coming down to settle inside me like the thin sheet of snow across our yard this morning. It occurs to me that I should be as happy to see all these various thoughts as I am to see this dusting of snow. I didn’t dash out to sweep away the inch or so of snow, and I shouldn’t wish the flurries of thoughts inside me to stop. This morning I sighed with pleasure and smiled to see the new-fallen snow, and I should sit back and do the same as I feel the fresh thoughts descending upon me each moment. After all, my thoughts are as harmless – and yes, as lovely – as the snow. Even thoughts of anger and fear can foster an unflustered sense of astonishment – like, Where in the world did these foolish but fascinating thoughts come from? If I can loosen up and understand their inoffensiveness and charisma, the steady descent of thoughts across my days can be a dance worth watching.