A Curious Girl: The end of the snow

It seems strange that the snow has all but vanished now, when in the early hours of this morning we watched the black silhouettes of rabbits pad around on the white earth. The lake, which was almost completely covered in ice, has thawed again, and the greenness of the world has reappeared.

The last remaining snowmen look rather the worst for wear. Outside my block, a carrot and a few snowballs on the grass are the only things that testify that there ever was a snowman there.

Still, I am grateful. The snow provided a peculiar vividness to nature around us, the shoots of springtime still peeped out from its white blanket, and amongst the hundreds of thousands of human footprints, we could see places where birds and rabbits had been. It says a lot that a phenomenon of weather could so capture our attention when we flatter ourselves as being able to transcend the ‘natural’ world, the world not of our own making.

I am mildly regretful that I never had the chance to have a snowball fight with anyone, it seems my friends are all warmth lovers (sensibly) or merely unavailable. There might be hope yet, of course – whilst when it snowed properly when I was a child I always seemed to end up in fights with people intent on getting snow down your back, the last (and possibly only) snowball fight I enjoyed was with two children after church with the meagre remains of a ‘dusting’ of snow. Quality, not quantity – I hadn’t had so much fun in ages. I sometimes wonder if that’s the sort of thing Christina was talking about when she said I had a way with children. I’m not sure if I have a way with children or if I’m just a big one myself.

Of course, when we were at school we weren’t allowed to have snowball fights. Actually it never really snowed enough when I was at secondary school, but naturally it was strictly forbidden at primary school.

This worries me. Granted, it can get out of hand, and there are sane people who don’t really like being pelted with balls of frozen water, but it seems to be another tactic from the ‘we must never let children feel any pain whatsoever or they will be scarred for life’ line of thought. Which is of course, rubbish, and leads to children who are over-sheltered and generally scared of life. I’m so angry when I hear about children being forbidden from things like skipping and even running because ‘they could get hurt’. They’re hurt more when we steal childlike pleasures from them.

Speaking of being childlike, it occurs to me that people often confuse cynicism with wisdom. It depresses me that it appears to be a common belief that if people are happy they must be naļve. Let’s go wallow in misery – or hedonism – or something. It seems to me that a cynic is often just as naļve as the rose-coloured spectacled person (I think I remember Nim saying something like that a very long time ago!). It's really a matter of perspective. Happiness isn't about delusion, it's more about finding joy in simple things – appreciating good things for what they are. And I refuse to believe that love is merely an evolutionary trick – the mere fact that 'the selfish gene' disturbs us so, makes me sure that morality is not merely another way of ensuring survival (I read about this in New Scientist whilst trying to find that Scientific American article). We have free will – we don't have to be bound to evolutionary strings or obey some mystical psychology laws of behaviour. We're more than that. We cannot merely say that men and women who made a difference were merely acting on some kind of complex psychological instinct, nor can we explain through psychology why prosperity does not bring happiness.

I don't think that happiness is such a distant goal. Granted, I could be talking rubbish, but it's no more rubbish than someone who shall not be named who once said to me, and I quote 'The world is shit and and it's going to hell.' I'd rather quote Louis Armstrong (What a wonderful world :-) ) and set about trying to make the awful things in this world a bit better. I know I can't succeed in improving all of it – I am weak and there is only one of me. But I am also powerful beyond measure.

And I truly believe that in my own little way, I can change the world.

You can too. Take the time to look at the trees and the birds, smile at people, love the unloveable, and think about how you can make a difference. In your own little way.

Matthew made a remark about how I sound like Chicken Soup for the Soul, and *giggles*, yes, I have read a grand quantity of that lovely Chicken Soup stuff. (Last night (well early this morning) (well, not that early this morning), I told him that it could be that the nicest phrase in the world is not necessarily 'I love you'. It may, in fact, be 'I love you too'.) But why not? What is it about happiness and optimism that offends people? I should send them all to watch Pay it forward and forcefeed them Angel Delight :)

And I know I probably sound cheesy, and I know there are people with hurts I know nothing about, but please believe me… Happiness is possible.

I think I need to go read some Dave Pelzer - reading just the blurb of 'A Man called Dave' cheered me up – he was seriously abused as a child but he came through. Only I think I should stay away from Amazon because it could be hazardous to the health of my bank balance. Stories like that – they fill me with hope. Like when I read Alice's Diary when she was talking about the victories God has had in her life – I know people who are going through similar things to the things she went though – and I have faith, that even if they don't believe it, God can and will win over the darkness.

Thanks Hsiu for your guestbook signing... and Mum, I don't think you're a git :)

Random word for today: faithful

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