I can’t stand the heat. At all. My midwestern blood is literally and figuratively boiling at the thought of triple-digit forecasts. I stayed in the South for the summer, and clearly now I’m being punished for my hubris. What kind of climate requires you to add 10 degrees to every temperature because of humidity? It’s absurd. This place is absurd. I haven’t wanted to be snowed in this much since I was in 5th grade hoping for a snow day.
I miss winter. Then again, it seems like most of the world does not agree with my assessment. Birds fly south for the winter. Humans, likewise, depart for beach houses and oceanfront condos. Sunny days are something to be coveted and celebrated. Summer is the season of the harvest, the season of life. Winter, on the other hand, is dead and cold. Why do I miss it so much? It can’t just be nostalgia for home – after all, lots of places have much colder winters than Chicago, and our summers can turn brutally warm as well.
If I had to guess, I miss winter not because it reminds me of a place, but of a time. Winter is calm, silent, and still. Winter is the season of closed roads and canceled events, of hibernation and shelter. Winter is peaceful, a welcome peace from the rat race that our world has become. Under the sweltering sun, every responsibility feels magnified. Each week is overflowing with obligations and activities on campus; work, school, socials, rinse, and repeat. In the months of spring, summer, and fall, campus is buzzing all the time. There’s no time to break, reflect, or cool off. Sometimes I worry that I push myself so fast that I lose any sense of purpose. It’s a broken world, after all, and everything needs tending to. I go to clubs to mend my soul, I go to class to mend my mind, but new weak points spring up faster than I can repair the old ones. If I were to sit alone all day, I’d probably go stir-crazy. Summer may look beautiful, but it can feel anything but.
Many artists have attempted to capture the image of Eden, the paradise from an age of myth and legend that we forfeited eons ago. They depict blossoming plants and herds of animals under a burning sun. I have never drawn Eden – I cannot draw, paint, or any of the associated visual arts. I can, however, write. So, I present my thesis of the Garden of Eden: a snow-covered forest on a frozen lake, with no sound or movement except for the humming of the wind. There is a small glimmer of firelight from a cave, where two shadows watch silent snowflakes dance across the ice. There will be no thaw, no tasks that need attending to. Instead, they just sit and watch. A never-ending winter. A never-ending peace. Would that be so bad?
One of Jesus’ first miracles was to calm a storm at sea. I think everyone (but us college students especially) should give calm a little more credit. Temperance, after all, is a cardinal virtue. If we try and move too fast, we risk losing sight of what this is all for. Perhaps sometimes the path closest to Christ is the humblest, quietest, and calmest one. Is it lively? Probably not. That’s what makes it so special. Just like Eden, a life of true calm is long since beyond our reach. Even so, we should never stop trying to find it.
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