Tag Archives: snow

Gratitude in the Snow Storm


So grateful.
I attended day  two
of a weekend workshop today,
and Mother Nature
brought on the snow storm early.
It felt fast and furiously
through the afternoon,
and by early evening
it was impossible
for me to drive home.
My husband called
one of his clients
who is also a friend
and asked if I could stay
the night at his home,
where he lives with
his lovely partner.
I found myself
grabbing a bite to eat
at a local Thai restaurant
and trekking through the snow
to their house
just blocks from the studio.
How welcoming they were!
They put out fresh towels
on the guest room bed,
a change of clothes,
got a load of wash started for me
so that I could have clean clothes
in the morning,
and offered every possible comfort
one could ask for.
A vacation for me.
I miss my husband and my children terribly,
and yet…
it’s so beautifully quiet.
I will take this time as a retreat,
enjoy the quiet,
sit in meditation…
find stillness,
and silently give thanks
over and over again,
for this snow storm
that reminded me
how my needs
are always met,
and often in unexpected ways.
So grateful.
Breathing now.

Valentine’s Day Metta


Snow falling
Wind gusting
Roads freezing
People hurrying, bundled,
running to the warmth of their homes.

But there are those without homes.

I wonder about the homeless;
I hope they will find shelter tonight.
Already this year,
six people in Baltimore have lost their lives
because of the bitter cold.

On this Valentine’s Day,
my heart breaks to think of it.
What  can I do now but send metta?

May all beings be safe
May all beings be free from suffering
May all beings have mental and physical happiness.
May all beings be at ease.
May all beings be happy.

April Snow

Embed from Getty Images

It’s too late in the year for snow to be falling
But somehow as we left the restaurant to go back home tonight
That’s just what was happening.

Driving home in driving snow, visibility low,
it could’ve been January or February.
My seat warmer on, heater blasting,
wishing for gloves? In April?
Oh, the humanity!

Someone give Mother Nature the memo.
It’s spring, and it’s supposed to be warm.
The 70 degree days flow into 50 degree nights.
That’s the way it’s supposed to be, right?

In spring I look forward to sitting on the porch and sipping tea
Or watching my children dig in the dirt of the back yard.
But not today…no, the rains came steady and unrelenting
And in the evening the rain gave way to snow.
Oh no!

The ivy my husband planted in the hillside
will be crying for mercy tonight
as the cold weaves its frozen fingers
into delicate cell walls newly rehydrated
Who knew the temps would fall to 27 degrees–in April?
Will the ivy survive?
I’m just glad to be inside. Alive.

I’m grateful for warmth and shelter.
Isn’t this the kind of thought I should be having in December?
Ah well, it’s April and it’s snowing.
Certainly a spring I will remember…

On the heels of the daffodils blooming
and the pink saucer magnolias unfurling,
cherry blossoms reveal their delicate centers.
Stretching across the emerald green seas of neighbors’ lawns,
forsythia hedges burst bright like yellow curtains.

And now snow fall, in April,
to remind us nothing is certain.

Embed from Getty Images

Moon Poem, Winter’s Last Embrace, Non-Attachment


I look for the full moon, but she is hiding behind clouds,
like a queen lazing behind the gauzy curtains encircling her bed,
she refuses to make an appearance.
Her subjects long to see her bright, lovely face
but tonight she ignores their pleas, and won’t lift a single finger.
Cruel queen, shine your light on me.

Are you a prisoner of circumstance?
Do you long to be seen but are kept shrouded from our eyes?
We have no choice, we could not see each other if we tried.
My little hands cannot make the clouds part,
my breath cannot blow away the mountains of snow
looming in my sight.
Little round queen, I will wait for you.

For now I close my eyes and see you glowing in my mind.
My remembrance gives me hope.
Through this cold and cruel winter
I’ll keep warmth in my heart,
and in the golden glow of a candle,
Moon mother, I will sing for you.


It’s a full moon tonight.  I’ve been teaching moon salutations in my yoga classes in anticipation of this, honoring the cyclical nature of the moon, how she swells to fullness and recedes into darkness over and over again.  Acknowledging that cycles of fullness and emptiness are natural, we learn how to embrace our own moments of fullness and emptiness on all the levels they can manifest.  Right now, I am full of the breath.  Right now, I am empty of the breath.  Fullness and emptiness, giving and receiving, forever.

I often find myself longing to see the bright full moon, shining in all her glory.  I love how she is so bright that her light casts a shadow of the window frame on the carpet of my meditation room.  On such nights, I sit in her light, turning my face up to her, focusing my eyes half open on her glow, and it seems that this light is an endless stream from the heavens all the way to my heart; she beams a divine smile on all those who look upon her.

But I cannot see the moon tonight, for she is concealed behind thick snow clouds.  The sky appears orange in the glow of the city lights. The forecast tells us that as many as six inches of snow will fall tonight, and my heart is sinking–I just want the spring to be here!  I want to see the crocuses and daffodils. I want hyacinths and tulips.  I want to watch the apricot tree blossom,  the sweet puffy white blooms shining against the backdrop of a pure blue sky.  I am sick of winter.

But here is another chance to practice non-attachment.  Enjoy this last bit of winter, feel the cold.  Bundle up.  Leg warmers, scarf, gloves, hat, long down coat, boots.  Pretty soon this will be a memory, and the contrast of the cold of winter held against the warmth of spring will give rise to a more authentic enjoyment of the spring when it arrives in full force.  Non-attachment.  Be okay with what is.  Love what is.  Allow it to be.  Breathe.

When I long to see the moon but she hides behind thick clouds, I feel abandoned.

When I want the warmth of the spring sun yet snow is falling all around, I feel slighted.

If I want happiness, I must awaken to being, and receive this moment as it is…because as Byron Katie says, “Fighting reality hurts, but only 100% of the time.”  I will not fight, because fighting will not help.  I will open my arms wide to the snowflakes, and say, “Come on then!  Come on!”

Breathe in, breathe out.  Fullness, emptiness. Forever.


Getting Better


I’m almost better.  My husband was home today, so I was actually able to rest for a good part of the morning.  What a luxury, to lie in bed when normally I would be running around after a toddler, fixing lunch, doing laundry, picking up the piles of toys that are constantly strewn about in the wake of my four year old.  It was so nice to lie there and just be still, and wait for my body to feel better.  There was significant snowfall from the night before, and my daughter’s preschool was closed, so no one had to be anywhere else besides home.  As I lie in bed this morning, and as my husband did all the chasing and corralling that I normally do,  I noticed myself feeling perturbed by the level of noise achieved by my offspring, so I reached for some earplugs.  I rolled back over on my side, pulled the covers up to my nose, and reveled in the absolute deliciousness of stillness.   But what was that sound?  Yep, I could still hear the little buggers through the ear plugs.  Maybe the noise wasn’t gone completely, but it was significantly reduced.  Ahh, peace and quiet(ish).

All of the yoga studios were closed until 4pm due to the inclement weather.  The city studios reopened at 4pm; a lot of students live in walking distance and look forward to their yoga class, even if a foot of snow has fallen. I teach two classes in one of the city studios on Thursday nights, and was able to sub both classes out to a teacher willing to give prenatal and restorative yoga a try.  It took me a while to write out detailed sequences for both classes, and I was reminded of my days of elementary school teaching and the sub plans I would leave if I was sick and needed to take off work.  It was a relief to know that the classes were in good hands, that I could focus on healing, that I wouldn’t have to venture out driving into the Baltimore winter wonderland (our street had seen nary a plow all day).

There’s more snow falling now, and my husband seems to be coming down with the flu I had the last few days.  Tomorrow I might have three children to take care of instead of just two.  Remember my post about the chicken soup?  If I’m given the chance to relive that scenario, maybe I’ll have a better attitude from the get go.  Maybe.

I’m still working on feeling better.  Sickness reminds me how grateful I am for health.  This sickness brought me the gift of a yoga student friend who showed up in my darkest hour and relieved me of my responsibilities for a window of time, so that I could focus on feeling better…or at least just be still for a while.  What a generous offering.  I continue to be so deeply touched by her gesture, the proof that I am not alone, evidence that someone cares.

My body is tired from fighting this illness, and my mind is tired from this day. I was back to being my mom self by noon; lunch needed to be made and the hubby was shoveling the foot of wet, heavy snow off of our sidewalk and putting considerable effort into digging out the cars.  I was back to the laundry and chasing the boy child around, helping the four year old out of her pee pants for the fourth time today–you know, the usual mom stuff.

I’m glad I had twenty-one hours to recuperate.  Twenty-one whole hours! I wonder what it would be like to have a full day off–but beggars, as they say, can’t be choosers.

I’ll be back to feeling like myself soon.  Night night.