A heady silence hung thickly on the air, broken only by the falling of snow clods from laden branches. And if I were not there, would they have made a sound? What if I had my earbuds in? I journeyed with trepidation, trudging through the snow, squelching into the muddy beaches of melted pools.
The snow clung to branches, outlining their reaching fingers like so many fireworks bursting against a deep blue sky.I fell down. I fell down an embankment. I landed in the wet, cold snow and it fell down my pants.
But when I looked up and saw the beauty surrounding me, I felt a warmth inside.
Trees growing from rock, cliffs chiseled into the mountain, little lakes with a million tiny ripples in the wind.
And amidst this silence, this untouched blanket of melting snow, I knew I was alone.
And I don’t mean just in that moment, but always alone. In my own head, experiencing life as one, damaged ego.
How like this empty quarry am I. An excavated soul, all value taken from me, left bare, abandoned.
Ah, but all hope is not lost, is it?
For in this dead, forgotten chasm, there grows life, against all odds, in the face of an icy winter’s last fit.
So, yeah, I fell down and hurt my butt and feel like the shell of a man, but new life grows in me.
But then I realized something, as I panned across the landscape.
Nothing was truly dead.
Yes, the trees were bare and the reeds in the lake were brown and brittle, but they were alive and waiting to grow again.
And there were evergreens!
So, when all colour is gone from your life and you feel like your desperately reaching for help, into any empty sky, like so many empty branches, we’ve all been there.
Just remember the quarry. You’re not dead. Life is dormant in you, waiting to spring forth.