The Silence of Snow 
Essay for January 2026

At this time of year, my thoughts often turn to snow and to the silence that settles on the winter landscape after it has fallen. In the Pacific Northwest—where winter is usually dark, damp and dreary - the arrival of snow can be a gracious gift. Seldom arriving with significant force, it drifts in gently and gracefully, softly swaddling the landscape with its soundless embrace.
 
To me, the silence after a snowfall feels like a benevolent blanket that soothes and smooths everything it touches. Less the absence of sound, it is more the palpable presence of something beyond – something subtle and sacred that invites me into an intimacy with life and with myself that I might otherwise miss. The silence of snow is something that is unmistakable and yet unnamable, obvious and yet obscure, distinctive and yet defying definition. Unlike many kinds of human silence, it offers a safe sanctuary for my soul.
 
Sound travels differently after a snowfall. Moving muted and unhurried, it seems to be absorbed by something larger and more profound than the everyday world. The regular rhythms of routine days naturally slacken and slow. Everyone and everything pauses. Schools, shops and offices are shuttered and the curious and the captivated come out to marvel at the whiteness and the brightness. Standing in stark contrast to the usual wet winter weather, a fresh snowfall and the silence that accompanies it, can literally stop me in my tracks.
 
Paradoxically, as sound seems to soften and slow,  the sense of hearing sharpens:  The crunch of snow underfoot, the creak of a tree branch in the breeze, a chickadee chirping in the cold, the laughter of children on a sled. The few sounds there are have an indescribable aliveness – an immediacy and a clarity they lack at other times. Softly swathed in a shroud of silence, each one seems utterly unique and utterly extraordinary.
 
As well as sharpening the outer sense of sound, the silence of snow can also allow us to discern what is happening inside us with a fresh and precise perceptiveness. Just as it heightens our hearing, so the hush can enable us to become more acutely aware of our deep, soulful selves. Abiding in the silence of snow, the worldly thoughts and emotions that usually pervade the interior landscape of the mind can slowly settle and come to rest. And in their place a spacious, inner silence can open up.
 
When we are willing to rest in this quiet, internal expanse, we can sometimes discern our sacred selves – our deepest desires, our most profound passions, our hidden yearnings. And as we touch these often unknown and unexpressed parts of ourselves, superficial stories about ourselves, others, and the world can begin to melt away. We realize that we don’t have to believe our thoughts and emotions because they are so ephemeral. They come and go, constantly tumbling through our minds and then dissolving, much like snowflakes.
 
In this way, deep silence can sometimes soften the deeply-engrained sense of a separate, isolated self. We can see that we are not quite as solid, fixed and unchanging as we think. When we are willing to let go of the habitual and well-worn stories of “I”, “me” and “mine”, the rigid walls we have built around ourselves begin to crumble and give way. The separation between self and other starts to soften. The buffer between me and you begins to break. The gap between subject and object starts to shrink. And instead, everything can be held in a kind and compassionate awareness. This can feel both profoundly intimate and a little unsettling: Deep silence asks us to trust who and what we are beneath our carefully curated identities and roles, our personalities and preferences, our beliefs and opinions, and to discover that what remains is not nothing, but a quiet aliveness in which we can sense our connectedness to everyone and everything.
 
In the silence of snow we may discover that we are inextricably part of the web of life. Like snowflakes, we are each unique, yet we cannot exist in isolation: We are intimately and irrevocably connected with everyone and everything. This is the mystery of life: That everything depends on everything else. As former Secretary-General of the UN Dag Hammarskjold said “The light died in the low clouds. Falling snow drank in the dusk. Shrouded in silence, the branches wrapped me in their peace. When the boundaries were erased, once again the wonder: that “I” exist.”
 
I am yet I am not.
 
In this way, the silence of snow can show us that the spiritual path is less about accumulating insights or amassing knowledge, and more about letting go and surrendering who we think are and what we think we know. It is the still space in which we can perceive what is really true, before we interpret, judge, or name our experience. In the quietness, we can touch what truly matters. And then, when we speak, our words have more integrity, intelligence and insight.
 
So silence on the spiritual path does not need to be a withdrawal from the world. Cultivating compassion, mindfulness and wisdom, it can render us ready to engage with things just as they are, whether we like them or not. As biologist Thomas Huxley advised “Learn what is true in order to do what is right”.
 
And after the snow has melted and the world has resumed its normal hectic pace, we can remember the soft silence and carry it forwards into the rest of our lives: a gentle reminder that beneath all the noise and busyness, there is a calm, quiet inner landscape that is always available to us and that we can always return to. A still spaciousness that supports us and sustains us, and in which we can perhaps catch sight of the mystery and sacredness of our soulful selves.

Events

All times are Pacific Time

Tuesday, January 6 4:00 - 5:15 pm in Person
Healing Circles Langley
Mindfulness Meditation & More

Monday, January 12 6:30 - 8:00 pm on Zoom
The Five Invitations: Discovering What Death Can Teach Us About Living Fully by Frank Ostaseski
Book Study & Contemplative Journey for Mortals
Co-facilitated with Sarah Conover and Nicole Jarosinski of Clear Mountain Monastery
Meeting on the second and fourth Monday of each month from January - June
For more information and sign up, please email me.

Tuesday, January 20 4:00 - 5:15 pm in Person
Healing Circles Langley
Mindfulness Meditation & More

Monday, January 26 6:30 - 8:00 pm on Zoom
The Five Invitations: Discovering What Death Can Teach Us About Living Fully by Frank Ostaseski
Book Study & Contemplative Journey for Mortals
Co-facilitated with Sarah Conover and Nicole Jarosinski of Clear Mountain Monastery
Meeting on the second and fourth Monday of each month from January - June
For more information and sign up, please email me.

Tuesday, January 27 7:00 - 8:30 pm in Person and on Zoom
Bellingham Insight Meditation Society
The Power of Pausing
For Zoom link, please email: [email protected]

I am not leading any events in February as I will be on retreat for the month

Monday, February 9 6:30 - 8:00 pm on Zoom
The Five Invitations: Discovering What Death Can Teach Us About Living Fully by Frank Ostaseski
Book Study & Contemplative Journey for Mortals
Co-facilitated with Sarah Conover and Nicole Jarosinski of Clear Mountain Monastery
Meeting on the second and fourth Monday of each month from January - June
For more information and sign up, please email me. 

Monday, February 23 6:30 - 8:00 pm on Zoom
The Five Invitations: Discovering What Death Can Teach Us About Living Fully by Frank Ostaseski
Book Study & Contemplative Journey for Mortals
Co-facilitated with Sarah Conover and Nicole Jarosinski of Clear Mountain Monastery
Meeting on the second and fourth Monday of each month from January - June
For more information and sign up, please email me.
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