If you live in a part of the world where snows falls, you have probably seen it by now. Maybe you like it, maybe you don't. I do! So when I awoke a few days ago to see snow falling from the still dark sky, I resolved to go outside immediately: to catch the silence.
As many a mystic will tell us, it is in silence that we find voice: the voice of transcendence, the voice of infinite mystery. The voice of meaning into which we can fit all else. When, as the Hebrew scriptures tell the story, the prophet Elijah found himself on the slopes of Mt. Carmel, dejected, discouraged, and absolutely alone, God didn't speak to him with voice. The mountain shook, a fire blazed, but no voice came forth. Only at the end of these astonishing theophanies did God speak with voice.
I don't know if you've ever seen the show "Gilmore Girls," but one of the main charaacters, Loralai Gilmore, was famous for having a sixth sense about snow. Every year (or rather every season of the show), it didn't matter what she was doing or how she was feeling, she knew when snow was about to grace her small town of Stars Hallow. There were a few times when Loarlie was in a sour mood, but as soon as the smell would enter her nose, she would say "I smell snow," and her mood would istantly be lifted. Though Loralai was not very religious, for her, the first snow was always a sacred event. It meant the beginning of winter, and for her, it was always a new beginning where anything was possible. There's something magical about the first snow.
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