"At least the aftermath is pretty."
We got walloped yesterday by "Winter Storm Rex". I'm not usually one for winter storm names, but this one was fitting: like a proper king, it invaded our land and demanded our subservience. We were supposed to get only two to four inches, but meteorologists pulled the biggest "JK" at the eleventh hour and suddenly I'm shoveling a solid foot of snow in my driveway while my husband attempts to swerve around snowbanks on the highway. The only plus side is that our neighbors have a plow hitched to their pick-up and plowed out our driveway after seeing me going at it with a shovel.
I had to head out first thing this morning, as I had forgotten dishwashing detergent during yesterday's grocery run (something I realized in the afternoon and decided there was no way in hell I was going out in that terrible weather again). I had made a huge dinner to celebrate the 8th anniversary of my husband and I meeting (actually the dinner he made me the Tuesday after we met, which I remember because I was just so shocked that a dude actually wanted to cook me dinner?) and the dishes were flowing out of the sink and onto the counters.
It was a son of a bitch, trying to drive around roads that, despite being busy roads, had not been recently plowed. But, even with all this frustration, I couldn't help but enjoy what was around me. The world was just waking up, the morning sun was reflecting gently off the snow, the skies were a vivid blue. The mountains in the distance looked like something out of a postcard. I was so entranced by what was around me that I drove north for a few minutes, even though it meant dealing with roads at a slower pace than usual.
"At least the aftermath is pretty." One of my cousins posted this today on Facebook. As someone who tries to see the beauty in everything, as someone who recognizes that the line between beauty and brutality is a pretty blurry one (and sometimes they are simply opposite sides of the same coin), I am in love with this statement on so many levels. Look at this destructive force -- look at what shut the northeast down time and time and time again this winter -- and look at how beautiful it is. Look at everything in this world that can destroy us without batting a proverbial eye. Look at how beautiful it can be.
I know I'm toeing into Buddhist territory -- and rightfully so, given what I have been reading for yoga teacher training -- but I don't care. It's a great way of looking at the world, even if it's a bit hippie-dippie-douchie. Beats many of the alternatives.