TIME OUT:Cold weather revealed our warmth and resilience, writes MARIE MURRAY
AMONG THE many images of the frost and snow this past December is that of people, warmly clad, cosily gloved, brightly hatted and firmly booted, out and about walking in the snow.
Some emerged tentatively. Some held onto others for support. Others strode with confidence and determination. Many emerged to escape the cabin fever of confinement, to get out and enjoy the snow.
And of course there were children, who appeared in large numbers with sledges and snowboards, savouring this unexpected liberation from school and routine.
People walked to work in the snow. People walked to the shops for essentials. People walked their dogs. People who would usually prefer to hop in the car for everything left the car at home and walked. Most did so with unexpected good humour, in the biting cold, with the happy ruddy countenances associated with jolly Christmas cards. It was fun to do and fun to watch, and walking in the snow brought people into contact with each other in unexpected ways.
The cold weather generated warmth in interactions. It aroused empathy for those who were housebound, understanding of those who were depressed, consciousness of those who were homeless or cold, and appreciation of the privilege of health and the capacity to walk when no other means of transport is available.
The snow brightened the world during this economically dark December. It lifted spirits, bringing to mind Robert Frost’s reflections on how even a dust of snow can give the heart “a change of mood”.
To awake to an altered world, to the beauty, brightness and whiteness of snow, to its stillness and tranquillity, to the gentleness of its initial presence, alters everything long enough to view life differently. Snow stops us in our tracks and gives us time to decide what to do. Nature gives perspective: it reminds us of the cycle of life, of what appears and disappears dramatically and how what seems to be insurmountable one day can be gone the next.
The snow reminded us that we can survive the most inclement conditions, gloomy forecasts, economic avalanches, obstructions and apparent impasses. It demonstrated our individual self-reliance and collective capacity to meet challenges.
People walked in the snow with the vigour of those who feel they are achieving, with the contentment of those who have relied on their own prowess to get them where they needed to go and with a neighbourliness that had been hidden in the good times.
There was a reason to check on neighbours, to talk to people and to appreciate the efforts of those who were out with spades shovelling the snow outside their houses and walkways.
The act of walking itself reintroduced many to a great pleasure that they had forgotten. Because walking is a primitive pleasure. The rhythm of each step, the measured pace, the sense of self, the independence of the activity and the mental space that walking provides, makes it one of our most valuable psychological tools. It is good to walk – for body and for soul. Walking is good for thinking, for warming up if physically cold, for cooling down if angry. Walking in the snow is perfect for reassuring oneself of one’s capacity to find answers, take alternative routes, slow or increase pace and to get to where one wants to go.
As we walk out of this decade into the next, as we stride into the year ahead, it may be good to put on mental walking boots, carry whatever shovels and spades are required to shift the mountains of despair that have fallen upon us in the past year, wear bright collections of resolutions, defy anything to defeat us and recognise how united we are compared to how disconnected we have been.
We now know, thanks to the snow, that we are all essentially walking the same paths, for the same purposes, with the same difficulties, determination and hopes for the year ahead. Happy New Year to everyone.
Marie Murray is Director of Psychology and of the student counselling services in University College Dublin