The snowflake-maker + me.

1/2/2014

I am grateful to have walked this rural Michigan road every day to/from school for several years of my childhood. This recent picture is from Oak Cove Resort's Facebook page.

In the late 70's my Mom and I lived at Oak Cove Resort as its off-season innkeepers.

Living in that magical place during my formative years did something to me. Shaped my core. Caused me to fall in love, day after day, with acres of woodlands, and the gorgeous Lake Cora that was our "front yard." Sometimes Cora gave fish. Sometimes she threw paddle-boat and canoe parties. And every winter she offered her strong icy back for us to skate on. TV and toys were just not that captivating... not when stacked against Nature.

A snow blizzard + dark blue mittens.

One day in my second-grade class, we were cutting out snowflakes. From what I recall, we had to fold white paper, and then draw and cut-out a complex geometric design on the top layer. When we unfolded our paper, each "flake" was so delicate and beautiful. Like lace.

Our teacher told us that "no two snowflakes are made the same." I looked out the window, at all the tall heaps of snow, and found her words really hard to believe. How could each flake be different when there were so many?

My school bus dropped me at that long, curvy road pictured above. Everything was white as white can be. And the falling flakes were huge. I held my mitten-covered hand flat, to catch and investigate them.

I held those flakes close to my face and watched. I let them melt, and get replaced by new ones. And it was true. I could see that each ice crystal really did look different. This might be unimpressive to some. But it was everything to me, seeing this outrageous display of creative genius.

"How full of the creative genius is the air in which these are generated! I should hardly admire more if real stars fell and lodged on my coat." (Henry David Thoreau)

Walking that road gave me my love for the tiny and the tender. Simple. Aliveness. Thanks for letting me reminisce with you. Below in the comments, I would love to hear a story about Nature somehow leaving an unforgettable impression on you. C'mon and share!

5 Comments

Erika Harris link

1/2/2014 07:44:49 pm

Sometimes the best way to figure out your next steps, is to look at past steps you LOVED taking:

http://lifeblazing.com/2011/09/15/my-iphone-brought-me-closer-to-the-sun/

Marsha link

1/3/2014 07:24:36 am

Thank you for the beautiful meditation that my rare Twitter check led me to today. It's pure joy hearing your voice in your words again! 2014 has brought the completion of the most difficult, metamorphic 7 year cycle of my life. Like a newborn, find myself gasping for those first, fresh gulps of air excited about those first steps in the days and months to come. This morning awoke from a dream that included a reindeer stag, with beautiful rack of velvety soft antlers, living in the snowy woods inviting me back on the path home. A new dream indeed! And then sounds of wind gusting, cars slushing by on the road and an incessant snow blower bringing me back to reality. Pining for my own Oak Cove resort - that one at the end of the world where at least a white tail deer can be found peeking through my bedroom window on a January morn... Not pining to go backwards, reminiscence for the zillionth time or recreate something as fragile, ethereal and short-lived as a snowflake. But somehow I know the memory, of the stormy winter sea, the stony beach and wooded snowy paths -especially the memory of a January snow blizzard that blurred the path and the trees for a few very panicky minutes so that even my trusty guide got a little lost but I didn't, leads to remembering and re-discovering the woman who knows how to step in unafraid and walk the discoverer's path full of passion, compassion, whimsy, creativity, heart open with expectancy. I was seven years frozen, frigid - hell's bells downright frostbit and in a hypothermic coma! Melting has begun with a big messy puddle to mop -but I do it whistling while I work, the Snow Queen's curse broken. So here I am at 2pm, quite unintended I saw your intriguing tweet that led me to your message. Some of the best, beloved past steps included You. Please allow me to thank you from the depths of my being for the many years of lovingkindness, sacrificial support , the open ear and heart of perfect friendship you offered to me. When you needed me most I had nothing to offer but bitter, briny, cruel tasting water and unpardonable. I can't change all that's happened, much was inevitable and even necessary I suppose. Somehow my next alchemic steps involve Marah sweetening into springs of Elim with woods of acacia and palm. Just Wikkied acacia cause it spirit-dropped into my fingers as I was typing. Says acacias have thorns created by branches that couldn't grow during drought but from within comes the pungent fragrance for incense and purifying healing! I'll throw in the acacia and make sweetwaters. Stopping by your woods on a snowy afternoon (forgive me Robert Frost) simply said, you've been and always will be deeply loved and treasured by me. No reply needed or expected. Wishing you the most incredibly, creatively genius-ed and prosperous year yet! <3

1/8/2014 07:52:44 pm

Hello, Butterfly :-) I rejoice with you, and the sweet completion of your 7-year metamorphosis! I know much stamina was required. And now, here you are, with warmth and wings. Thank you, Marsha, for sharing the beautiful news with me. With deep love returned to you, Erika.

Jacquelyn link

1/4/2014 10:17:45 am

For you dear Erika:
I loved the mimosa tree in my front yard. It was where I climbed high and perched my 10 year old self in my very own tree recliner made of strong limbs, branches and sweet smelling pink blossoms. I would gently tickle my face and arms with the tender pink mimosa blossoms. Little did I know I was self-soothing my over-stimulated, over-wrought nervous system – now known as the trait of high sensitivity? I would take my depth-of-processing and the emotional intensity engulfing me from the harsh world below me and somehow climb down a hour later always feeling lighter, loved, beautiful an with a clearer understanding of my place ~ not in that world “out there” but within my own inner world ~ a place reached only by me. With love to you, Jacquelyn

1/8/2014 08:10:45 pm

Thank you for this sharing, Jacquelyn! When I first heard of your special Mimosa tree years ago, I was in my kitchen, doing something mundane (dishes, probably). I got a "borrowed benefit" by allowing myself to experience the felt safety offered by your childhood tree.

And then, not long after, to be in the Rocky Mountain National Park with you, where we created our own shared encounters in Nature's embrace... I still marvel at the magic of that backcountry adventure!

I hold your leadership and friendship in the highest regard. Love galore, Erika.

The snowflake-maker + me.

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