As I sit down to write, my window frames a world transformed. Shetland, usually alive with the relentless rhythm of the sea and the wind, has been cloaked in a serene blanket of snow. This past week has been an extraordinary one. We’ve been graced with weather that has, quite literally, brought the isles to a standstill. And in this unexpected pause, I’ve found an unexpected treasure: the gift of stillness.
There’s something about snow that invites reflection. Perhaps it’s the way it muffles the usual sounds of life, or how it simplifies the landscape into a canvas of white, urging us to slow down and look inward. This week, as activities were suspended, schools closed and schedules upended, inconvenience became an unlikely ally. In the end it brought with it a quiet that is rare in our fast-paced world, a quiet that allowed for moments of introspection and tranquility.
I’ve been reminded that there’s a profound beauty in stillness. In the absence of our daily hustle, the mind finds space to wander, to contemplate, and to appreciate the simpler aspects of life. Watching the snowfall, I was allowed to slow down and take time to just ‘be’, an increasingly rare concept in a world that constantly demands us to ‘do.’
This unexpected break from routine highlighted our collective craving for these kind of pauses. Our lives are often so structured and hectic that the thought of a quiet moment with no schedule or somewhere to be can seem almost scary. Yet, when it’s thrust upon us, we find a part of ourselves that has longed for this peace. It’s a gentle reminder that sometimes, the best thing we can do for ourselves is to allow these moments of stillness, to let them wash over us like the soft fall of snowflakes. And let the worries and guilt of not doing or being enough melt away with the snow.
As life in Shetland begins to stir again, with roads clearing and the usual pace resuming, I find myself carrying forward a lesson from this snowy week. I vow to seek out these moments of tranquility more deliberately. Whether it’s taking a few minutes to watch the sunrise, or simply sitting quietly with my thoughts, I am reminded of the value of pausing, of breathing in deeply the peace that these moments bring.
In the end, perhaps the greatest gift of this snowy break in Shetland is the reminder that stillness, with all its subtle power, is not just a pause from life, but a vital part of living it fully.
Do you also feel this way?
Thank you for sharing snow, sky and peace with us!
Snow and winter are why I live in rural Maine. Watching snow fall, softly, then furiously as the world becomes quiet. Walking my dog at sunrise through fields and into the woods, the only sound being our crunchy steps making the first imprints on a fresh blanket of glistening snow. Stopping now and then to listen to the silence. Your photographs and thoughts capture this beautifully.