It’s been almost a full-time job just to thaw out this week. As record cold temperatures were blown about by a vicious wind, I hunkered down in old sweatshirts and the leg warmers I wore in rehearsals for “The King and I.” (I was Tuptim if you were wondering and even if you weren’t, now you know.)
As the mercury dropped and dropped and dropped some more, I kept the birdfeeders full and slogged through my writing contracts as best I could. I say, “as best I could,” because there is something about big weather events that changes my perspective on everything. And I do mean everything.
I went from thinking, “Wow, my water bill is high this month,” to, “Wow, 7 degrees? Seriously? How do I keep my pipes from freezing? I should Google that. Wait! What’s the wind blowing around out there? Is that my cable line? Holy cow! Do I have internet!!? Where‘s that draft coming from? Did I remember to get batteries for the flashlight? Oh, you mean the flashlight you left at the fire pit at WildAcres? You idiot! How are you going to see when the power goes off?” You go from tossing some birdseed around to worrying about the survival of the species.
Perspective is everything. Big weather changes my perspective and it’s frightening to contemplate how frozen I am. Mentally and emotionally, I stay pretty frozen all the time. I don’t like to admit that, but it’s true. Big weather keeps me honest about that. It holds my frightened face in the mirror and makes me look at how fragile and helpless I really am.
I don’t know about you, but I was brought up to give myself extra pride points for independence. Whatever it is, I can handle it. Whatever it is, I can do it. Except when I can’t. Big weather systems spin my perspectives on personal security like a kaleidoscope. Old: Larder empty? Hop in the car and go to the store. New: Black ice. I can’t. Old: I am perfectly safe and warm in my little house, I am perfectly safe and warm… New: It’s 7 degrees and the heater is puffing like it’s having a seizure. Note to self: Ice has formed on the windowpanes and the dog is refusing to go out to pee. Oh my God! Is that a puddle? Did I pay my gas bill this month?
As the wind whipped everything that moved, I ate soup and watched the PBS News Hour. But try as I might to feel warm and fuzzy, the fury of the wind lashed away at my personal safety margins and suddenly I could feel the cold in the bones of the starving refugees in Syria and see the fear in their eyes. How did I miss it the previous 30 nights? I’d heard the story before but my perspective on what cold was had changed. We suddenly had common ground. I understood their story and it was not a bedtime story (well, unless your parents read you the Brothers Grimm like my grandmother did). It was the real kind of story where you’re not in charge and really bad stuff happens and people die and all you can do is cry.
The purple flag flying in front of the Baptist church meant the shelter was open. But I wondered if the homeless who wander the interstate between Asheville and Black Mountain were huddled inside, like the birds that could no longer bear the branches and were pressed together under the eaves of the attic, clinging to each other’s warmth for life, sparrow next to starling. When I dared to risk the cold for a walk (ONLY because the dog refused to do the other thing without one), I passed a leaf held prisoner in a puddle and found it a chilling reminder of how quickly life can change.
So, here’s the punch line: Unless big stuff shifts my perspective, I quickly return to this convenient little delusion that I’m in control of my life and I get all safe and snuggled up in there… But I’m not. I’m not in charge of the big stuff (like death, war and the weather). I’m not even on the committee.
It’s so easy to numb out and dumb down. I am SO good at ignoring what’s happening right in front of me. And no, I don’t like the “big weather” events of life but I AM begrudgingly grateful for them. They alone seem to have what it takes to shake me loose from my frozen beliefs, to force me to walk the dog in the cold and be grateful that I have heat. Which reminds me. I need to add this to my list of “Things to Ask God”: Are the “big things” in life there to keep us from pretending or to make us rely more on our faith in you?
