Refractions

We had over forty below last week, and then forty above this week, which is a perfect recipe for ice. As I admired the crystals formed on cheatgrass and sagebrush, slid along slick paths, and watched the creek break open in front of me, I kept picturing this children’s book I have, The Legend of the Snow Queen. 

The legend was the Queen had a large lake inside her ice palace that acted as a mirror. Everything good reflected awful, and every bad thing stood out as wonderful, happy faces became sad, hateful images were beautiful. Once, the queen’s sleigh cracked the lake and the ice broke into hundreds of tiny shards that the wind swept into the air and blew far away. A girl and boy, best friends, were playing along the lake when a speck fell into the boy’s eye. He became bitter, drawn to the snow Queen, and left the girl to chase the queen’s seeming beauty. But, the girl, desperate to save him, followed. When she finally found him, alone and bereft in the palace, she began to cry. Gradually, her tears melted the splinter in his eye and he could see the truth, the spell of cruelty the queen had cast over him. 

As the year draws to a close, I feel as if I understand the power of our tears to transform our sight. I have lived with my own distortions, a blindness to what is truly beautiful caused by nothing more than chance, a spell cast I had no hand in making. Allowing kindness, accepting help, receiving tenderness are all acts melting sharp fragments, healing wounds, and restoring balance.

The sun glinting against the snow this morning created refractions of light, sparkling pinpoints caught for an instant. I never again want to be blind to small miracles, to have a heart hardened by an inability to see clearly, or the desire to chase fantasies towards empty futures. I’m full of gratitude for the kindnesses given to me as I travel on my own journey.