How To Find What You Want: Writing on a Snow Day

Snow balls form atop a plant

Today is a bona fide snow day. Schools everywhere are closed. Our road is covered and icy. It’s unclear whether I’ll be able to get out in the car. Snow decorates all the trees. This is my dream day.

And already I am antsy.

Normally I go to the gym in the early morning. I get up and out. I get moving. I am not used to sitting, to going inward before moving outward. What used to be my norm—early morning writing at a coffee shop—has switched with the development of my exercise habit.

So I sit here, one ear cocked to listen for cars going up the street (can they make it? Do they slide?); one eye scanning the bright sky, wondering if the sun will help at all despite well-below-freezing temperatures. I bring myself back to this writing and ask myself, “What do I want from this day?”

A day like this is a special package, a gift to be unwrapped and appreciated. I do not want to squander it. I want something from it, something I can hold and acknowledge. So again I ask the question, “What do I want from this day?”

The answer is not just about productivity. What I want is not a specific task-oriented achievement (“I want to write 2500 words”; “I want to begin/finish an article”; “I want to clean out all the back closets”; “I want to pay all the bills and clear the table from paper”), although I would welcome any and all of these to be accomplished.

No, what I want has to do with the feeling of time and the feeling inside of me. I can start with saying what I do not want:

• I do not want to feel time melting, fragmenting, dribbling away without substance or shape or reward.
• I do not want to pass time aimlessly by surfing the Net or surfing tv channels just because I have nothing else to hold my interest.
• I do not want to scatter my attention among many different tasks at once, which only leads to stress and fatigue.
• I do not want to wander around doing nothing just because I am bored.
• I do not want to sit in a pool of restless worry.
• I do not want to have my mind so busy with cascading thoughts that I never notice the quiet.

Now I find myself coming to what I do want from this day:

• I want inner space that is uncluttered. Quiet thoughts, quiet feelings.
• I want to focus on whatever tasks I am doing, one at a time.
• I want enough of a plan that I am not wandering around, wondering what is next and losing myself to distraction.
• I want freedom from time wasters that bring no pleasure (all you on-line folks know what that looks like).
• I want to put aside worries for which there is no immediate constructive action.
• I want time for being slow, to stare out the window at the snow.
• I want beautiful silence.

As I write, I discover that what I want is what I have right now: this absolutely still place, silent except for the hum of the furnace and the click of my computer keys; relaxation infusing my body and peacefulness blanketing my mind.

I want this: the pleasure of being with myself, writing words without distraction, entering this one calm and undisturbed space. Perhaps later I will want something else, but for right this minute, I am complete.

Question for Reflection: What do you want from today? What makes a day special for you? What do you most want when you have an unexpected day off?

Writing Prompts: “What I most want from today is ______” (then keep writing); “When I get an unexpected day off, I ______” (then keep writing); “What I dislike the most with my day is when I ______” (then keep writing); “Today I am going to make sure to ______” (then keep writing).

Tagged as: calm, quiet, reflection, silence, snow day, what do I want, Writing