Buddha & the Icepocalypse Revisited

Ready? Cue the eyeballs to roll. I’m sure some of my Facebook friends knew this blog post was coming. So, what does The Buddha have to do with the Icepocalypse, as we called Storm Octavia here in Nashville? And Pandora. And Thor….Opportunity, my friends. At least, that’s how I experienced it.

Oh, my. But the whining and the moaning and the groaning. Almost deafening. First, it was the fact that the weather people messed up and we got ice, not snow. Then school was canceled. And canceled again. Canceled all week. Am I inconvenienced? Did I have plans canceled? Plenty. A special mother-daughter date for a once-a-year free salon visit on President’s day. Grace was going to get her locks colored purple again. We were going to have mother-daughter pedicures Tuesday. I had a handyman scheduled. I’ve got a party planned on Saturday night and the guest of honor may not be able to land. Two special weekend dates for Grace are in question now, not to mention the Best Buddies prom. And, yes, a lot of work that was supposed to happen in the meantime hasn’t gotten done. Plus, right now my attic ceiling is leaking. I stuck a bucket up there and I’ve called the roofing dude. He can’t get up there until the ice on the roof melts.

But what could I do about all the plans unmade during Icepocalypse 15? Here’s my experiences of it: Wearing my pajamas because they are warm and comfortable. Giving my skin a break as it was itching like crazy from dryness all of the sudden last week. Read. Make good food: savory soups; buckwheat pancakes; egg dishes; muesli; chocolate muffins; peanut butter crackers; popcorn with salt, paper, herbs and olive oil; snow cream. Sip red wine. Organize the pantry. Tidy the house and mess it up again. Make art. Love on my daughter. (I have loved chilling with her this week.)

Back when we used to have more consistent winters, these traditions were the norm. Pancakes, waffles, muffins, and soups (albeit our annual winter staple,) were the norm for the snow days. So were the casual uniforms.

Maybe I’m just an old crunchy mom. But I love the extra time with my daughter—even though I’m looking to move to another state in the next two years so I won’t be her number one provider for the rest of my years. Children are a treasure. They’re a gift. How many people want them and cannot? Twenty years of her life have flown by captured in a flash of memories of snow days.

We’re in this predicament together. Deadlines are missed. Dates are broken. Plans trashed. But where are the gifts?: Time to reflect. Putter. Give extra hugs. Make treats. Take walks. Get some things done around the house.

What’s the other alternative? Bitch. Moan. Make ourselves miserable doing the latter. Spread bad vibes. Fail to count the blessings that we have shelter, heat, clothing, and food, and a chance to slow down.

What would the Buddha do?: Eh. What is is what is. We can’t change the weather. Only, our attitudes about it. Accept it. Lean in. Give in. Surrender. Appreciate. Look for the lessons. Look for the gifts. Or fight it.

Really, Icepocalypse is a microcosm of everyday life. When we chose to fight things that are beyond our control, we’re setting up chemical camp inside our bodies to do harm. Being well is more than being physically fit and eating whole foods. It starts with our minds and how much rest, recreation, and relaxation we allow ourselves. Yeah, I’m still working on a number of these.

Meantime: Chill. Ain’t got nothing else to do. Peace fingers.

I confess I conducted a little informal poll among a few friends before writing this post. Icepocalypse was a three-phase storm. Ice. Snow. And then snow again. When the snow finally came, I posted on my Facebook page “Alright whiney people. Here’s your snow. Bundle up your children and send them out into it.” I noticed sometime later that all the individuals who liked my post were either older or had children with special needs,  or a connection to those who did. I’m not attempting to pit special needs families against families with typically developing children, but the folks I polled did suggest that maybe it was age and having to live with disAbility every day that was beyond our control and knowing that we could surrender and work on things we could change or fight ourselves into bundles of misery.

This small Buddha sits in my patio garden near my wooden gate. I’d like to say he reminds me to be centered. I thought he was handsome when I bought him on sale at TJMaxx. But mostly, I enjoy photographing images of him throughout the seasons. The ones fraught with unpleasant conditions and the ones more abundant in beauty. Just like life.

UPDATE: This post was originally written on day five of the first week of three weeks of significant winter storms here in Nashville. The Saturday evening party for an out-of-town guest was rescheduled for Monday night of the second week. The Best Buddies Prom happened on schedule, but the school did not open again until Wednesday, and then it closed last Thursday. Reopened on Friday through yesterday, Wednesday, and now we’ve got snow and ice on the roads again while midlife bloggers for BAM, (Bloggers at Midlife,) the first ever blogging conference for bloggers of my age range (wOOT!) are in all stages of writing, travel, anticipation for if this particular show can go on. Also at stake travel to meet up with Grace’s father, and other commitments. We had a pop-up art sale scheduled this morning at Chico’s Green Hills (haha) “Spring Event.” What can I do? Surrender.  That snow is really pretty. I’m going to go play.

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Leisa Hammett
Author. Blogger. Speaker. ARTism Agent.

www.LeisaHammett.com; www.fromheartachetohope.org;
www.GraceGoad.com
Leisa Hammett

Leisa Hammett

Author. Blogger. Speaker. ARTism Agent. www.LeisaHammett.com; www.fromheartachetohope.org; www.GraceGoad.com

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