DECEMBER 24th 2017, 6 AM - WHEN THE WORLD SUBMITS TO WHITE

Ready to face the falling snow...

 

I have come to like the Christmas week in a year or two after my arrival in Iowa City, a university town in the Midwest of the USA. The weekend before Christmas, almost half the population leaves town, I discovered. All the college students, most of faculty and campus staff, and some of town’s natives, I think it adds up… The town, the hospital, where I work, wherever you go in the city feels almost deserted except for the shopping malls, where I rarely go during the shopping frenzy... In this “desertion”, I find peace and calm. In fact, the nest word that would describe what I truly find in the air during this week is “huzur”, a Turkish word that embraces peace, calm, subtle joy, and serenity. This “huzur”, the reduced population, traffic, noise, and hustle bustle bring to the city; I have come to enjoy immensely.

 

First snow of the year in Iowa City

 

Huzur” has started settling in since December 20^th, right after the schools closed. On Christmas eve's day, I wake up at 6 am with an unusual light in my bedroom. A childish hope trying to surface in my heart whispers "Could it be snow?". I jump out of my bed, not quite mindfully, I have to confess, to find the nearest window. My heart leaps with joy! My kitchen window reveals a world out there, pure white.  

All white but the grass...

 

I go to my front-door with delight, crisp but soft chill of a white dawn fills my vestibule. It might have snowed lightly, since the grass is still absorbing the snow resisting to losing its pale green color. …Yet. Without even taking off my pajamas, I don myself with a second layer, a sweater that my  mother had knitted for me and fleece pants, perfect for this weather. Hiking socks, snow boots, a heavy shawl and barrette, and my winter gloves; my width is twice what it really is, but I am cozy and warm, ready to face the nature at this wee hour of the day, Christmas eve’s day, at that.

I love the first snow of the year, never miss the opportunity to walk in the snow when the nature’s white cloak is smooth, pure, untouched. What I like better than walking after the first snow is walking in it, as it is falling, as it is almost knitting its wrapping of purity. When I step down my porch, to my delight, I discover that the snow is, in fact, continuing to fall. Although, I have very little skin exposed with all my layers, the fine powdery cold globules landing around my eyes is evidence enough that snow and I will have fun this morning under Iowa skies full of “huzur”, pouring “huzur” over us sentient beings. The road, the sidewalks and part of the rooftops are covered with snow, but the grass, not yet. I almost feel guilty to step on the snow, it is so velvety-smooth, stretching before my eyes. The black squirrel of my neighborhood does it for as it rushes across the sidewalk and disappears up the huge oak tree in my next-door neighbor's yard. There… His adorable little light footprints planted his signature on the snow, with his unique design. There is no reason for me not to follow my friend's footsteps! Thank you brother squirrel, I can now move on without feeling guilty...

This squirrel and I played hide and seek for some five minutes...

 

There is nobody out, yet, I could believe I am in the wilderness, had it not been for the humble homes of my middle-middle class neighborhood. Squirrels are running from tree to tree and Canadian geese occasionally glide elegantly above the trees, no other moving creature in sight, yet. The snow must be falling hard, I can tell with not only the white streaks that start accumulating within the creases of my coat, but also with the snow cover on stones, rooftops, and stoops getting more well-defined every few blocks as I walk. The contours of trees and tree branches sharpen gradually, my most favorite of all nature’s artistic endeavors.

Naked trees against gray sky is almost surreal...

 

I love this subtle color contrast-building when it snows. The sky is gray, the trees, buildings, rocks, roads all have different shades, but all in the light gray to black range. White, then becomes the defining color in this backdrop. As I turn east on the biking trail that I use often in the summer, I am now walking along a small creek. It's been very cold lately in Iowa City, I am not surprised that the creek is frozen. However, there are circles of water scattered here and there in the ice as if the river is piercing through the thin ice. A bunch of rocks line up a section of the creek, they are aligned in such a way as if a retention wall has eroded toward the creek. The snow has defined each rock beautifully; their angles in proportion to one another, the exact size of the top of each one of them, all the cracks and crevices on their surfaces and the irregular gaps between adjacent rocks. It is an exquisite scene.

 

An old retention wall kneeling toward the creek on my trail

As I leave the main street behind, I come across a bunch of Canadian geese crowning one of the trees in the park with their morning cacophony. As I stop and focus only on this chorus, though, that cacophony transforms into a musical. I think of Robert Wright, the author of “Why Buddhism is true” writing about how pain can be transformed into non-pain. Deep listening and deep “looking into” are the tools to transform our perceptions, some of which may not be accurate after all!

 

Snow accumulating fast every couple of blocks

 

An hour into my walk, neighborhood early-risers have also started finding their way to the trail, some with their dogs, some just walking and enjoying the first snow, some running. Everybody is under layers of clothing, hard to tell who is what. I know nobody could tell whether I am a woman or a man, neither can I... We still exchange "good morning, merry Christmas, same to you..."s with a light heart. I can sense the joy in the air.

 

One of my companions on the trail with her dog

 

People are good and kind in essence, wherever we go. I have seen this year after year, all over the world during my travels. It is true, here, too, although most of the world perceives America as an evil land and Americans as evil people, justly so to a certain extent because of all the hurt American governments have imposed upon world’s peoples. But this land also has its working people, some of which has fallen into lumpen proletariat, its middle class, its intellectuals, its progressives; just like any country on earth…

 

A mom and her kids playing in the snow in their own ways

 

I come across a mother and her three children, shoveling. I am now in a lower middle class neighborhood. The three kids are busy making a snow man with what their mother shovels off the sidewalk. What a sweet picture. I chat them up, they are eager to talk, they clearly feel safe, is it because "Mama is right here" or do I look like a safe person to them?

Sun finally rising slowly but surely

 

We exchange "merry Christmas" wishes and I move on as I smile at my memory from childhood. Having grown up in Izmir, Turkey, a city on the Aegean coast, where it rarely snowed, we craved for snow. Perhaps that is the reason, why, until adolescence, I collected postcards on which homes, villages were depicted covered with a foot of snow against the backdrop of mountains and forests. There would be smoking chimneys, evidence for a warm, happy home.

 

This vintage French postcard would be one I would frame on my wall in my childhood

 

When I was 5-6 years old, it “snowed” in Izmir! That’s what I thought then. Now I know that it just sprinkled a few shovels of powdery snow against the corners of walls. What a delight it was scraping a few spoonful of snow off the sidewalk… What a disappointment it was to see it all melt in our hands when we tried to pack the snow in our hands. My parents had laughed at us quite a bit, very lovingly, I could tell…

One of the oak trees standing strong

 

On my way back home, the trees, naked of all their leaves, reaching out to the sky with their arms and branches are spectacularly beautiful with what snow has done to them. I love the trees in my neighborhood. Midwest is famous for its tornadoes, wind storms, rainstorms and these trees stand up to all that torture. Even if they lose a branch or two here and there, they heal their wounds and continue standing strong in their reach to the sky. As Thich Nhat Hanh, an engaged Buddhist scholar and monk would say, when storms hit, they return to their roots to find the strength to deal with what turmoil hits their top branches. I am attracted to this virtue in human beings as well. As one of my best friends from Turkey would say “the strongest person is not one who hasn’t gone through difficulties, but that who has come out of them intact and more mature.”

Sun's playfulness on the snow and my footsteps crossing the yard of City High School

 

By the time, I arrive at the entrance of my cul de sac, I see that my outgoing footsteps are still the only sign of life left on the snow in my neighborhood. Snow has covered the lighter footprints of my black squirrel. When I get to my porch, I turn around and look at the world one more time. The grass has submitted to the snow, donned with a white blanket, who knows when we will see it again. The entire cul de sac is pure white, so becoming to the nature. To me, white in nature is purity, cleanliness, light, shimmer, expansiveness, peace, and “huzur”. That is what I feel right now, peace, calm, joy, and serenity, in short “huzur”.

My footsteps and my fellow sentient beings' creating our collective design on the snow

 

Snow is still falling. I close my eyes to just sense the small ice particles landing on my skin. When I open my eyes, I see my neighbor's oak tree rising to the sky with all its branches. Its white contoured arms against the gray sky are testimony how strong, although, solitary it is. I salute the dear oak tree with silent humility, then I notice the tiny white dots at the tip of, perhaps each one of my eye lashes. I… must have also submitted to White.  

The sun is almost up, snow has taken over not only my but also the lawns, lights will soon fade away as I thaw my hands and feet in the warmth of my house.