And it really is quite beautiful.
As I headed out for work this morning at 6:45a.m., the snow was still gently falling and still fresh and new. There was not yet much traffic by foot or by car to mar it, and in the semi-dark morning, the soft white blanket covered all, lending a quiet, pastoral beauty to downtown Chicago. As my bus rolled past Millennium Park, I felt a fleeting yet very strong desire to go and sit on one of the snow-covered benches and take in the hush that the snow covering engendered, to savor the pearlescent glow of the decorative lamps and the lights in the trees.
There came the sense of wanting to softly call out, “Wait!,” so as to hold still these moments of serene beauty. Then right on the heels of that impulse came the impassive admonishment that nothing ever stands still, no matter how lovely and worthy of lingering a while.
Further, continued this voice from within, the endeavor to cling to a moment, to poise oneself within the crystallized instance of enjoyment is to end up attempting to catch up to the next moment and then to the next, falling further and further behind, repeatedly trying to catch up to one’s own life...
