A friend sent me a picture of a Bulletin board outside of a local church which read: “Will Whoever Keeps Praying For Snow, Please Stop!” This UNRELENTING SNOW is really too much. My New England expectation is that we get one, maybe even two, big snow storms a year, with plenty of space in between them. A smattering of snow every now and again, followed by a quick spring that eases into a warm summer. The amount of snow we’ve had, and the related disruption in our lives, including lost work and school, driving nightmares, and all the other stuff—well, I’m pretty annoyed. Based on my conversations with others, I know I’m not alone.

I want to see the earth, the soil, the grass. I want to teach my classes, see my children off to school, get back into the weekly rhythm of activities. I realized, however, that in all my mutterings, rejecting this weather pattern basically means rejecting the earth. And, if I reject the earth, then where do I belong? Where do I go if I don’t like where I am, but really can’t change it? Sometimes on the mat, I reject a part of my body or my experience. This creates greater separation, not only within myself, but between myself and others. By disconnecting from myself, from the earth, then darkness leads the way and the truth of light and love dims.

Perhaps part of this journey is to embrace the weather pattern as an opportunity to touch the connections underneath the snowfall:  the connections between ourselves and all living creatures on this planet. Maybe against the backdrop of the mountains of white flakes, the deeper connections between us are more readily apparent. It is another chance to recognize, emphasize, and nurture our oneness. I’m not advocating denying the pain-in-the-neck stuff related to these storms—that would really be shoveling it. Instead, I’m suggesting the possibility of holding the truth of hard stuff, but also the truth of relating to a deeper knowledge. The knowledge that we are all connected to this snow experience, no matter what—connected to the human struggles and triumphs of winter 2011, and beyond. And in that connection, we have the chance to open to the expansiveness, the vibrancy, the dynamic nature of being alive. So, grab a shovel, here we go!