The sporadic ramblings of Emily C. A. Snyder - devoted to God, theatre, writing, and much randominity.

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Location: New York, New York, United States

Artistic Director and Co-Founder of TURN TO FLESH PRODUCTIONS. | Author of "Nachtstürm Castle," "Niamh and the Hermit." | Playwright: "Cupid and Psyche," "Math for Actors." | Classical director and educator.

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Silence and the Snow

I love the first blizzard of the winter. Even driving back when it gets down to creeping along to exits, even shifting into lower gear and praying to God that you can make it to your house on unploughed streets, even having final exam/projects (to which one has been looking forward) cancelled and the whole state in a state of state emergency...

I love the first blizzard of the winter.

It's the fact that I'm made to stop. That everything is quiet. That everyone goes home. That everything just comes to a gradual stillness while we wait for the storm to pass. It's that time when the snow drifts, undisturbed, footprint-less, twilight-lit through the trees. It's that time when it first starts snowing and the drafts of snow not yet stuck to the ground swirl beneath car tires reminding you that you're driving over water in another fairy form. It's the explosion, like hyperdrive, like space-stars as the snow and you collide. It's the advance of hazy whiteness, broken only by a sudden grey expanse of restless water, or a line of stalwart black branches.

I love the first blizzard of the winter.

I sleep more. I pick up books. I flip to a good section and then think: well, why not begin at the beginning and read it all right through? I cozy up in bed. I make friends with the blankets. We sit down all together for laughter and a meal. We think of lighting candles. We take out old movies and card games and board games. We live in the same room - some sleeping, some typing, some making cookies, some thinking, some hugging someone else.

I love the first blizzard of the winter.

I do not love my father's JOB, State Street, which is making Dad stay overnight in a hotel. But I am grateful for his every day heroism. And I am sad that our presentations are cancelled, because I was finally courageous enough to show them. But I am grateful for my class. I am grateful that I drove in today so that I could stay through Bob's farewell to us that felt oh so right and reminded me of what flashes of greatness can be found at Emerson. I am grateful for holiday cheer, for crazy Christmas trees, for presents drawn on paper.

I love. I do love. I try to love.

Amen. Alleluia! And thank You! You know what You are about.

Mood: Reflective
Music: "Comptine d'une autre ete" which I have missed oh-so-much!
Thought: Hmmmm, about that early sleep...!


Anonymous Anonymous said...

What - You don't love your dad

11:06 AM  
Blogger Emily C. A. Snyder said...

Boooo - stupid grammar. I mean I LOVE my Dad - don't love his JOB which keeps him in the stupid snow away from us.

1:23 PM  
Blogger Anne Pelrine said...

I have to agree with you. Seeing the world thickly blanketed with white and hearing it be completely still and silent (once the odd snowplow or car in the distance drives by) as though waiting for a cue to begin with its symphonies again...yeah. Nothing else like it. But I'm really not a big fan of driving in the freshly fallen stuff.

3:56 PM  

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