Hoarfrost at Huelgoat, Finistere, 1903
Fuente: https://www.wikiart.org/
The year began hectic, and noisy too.
My fellow Venezuelans know what I mean.
This in addition to the incessant internal dialogue that uncertainty generates in the mind.
As Isabel Allende said, “…life is nothing more than a great noise between two unfathomable silences.”
Anyway, trying to escape from the news confusion, as I always do, I bundled up and went for a walk, in search of a treasure.
I’m not referring to gold or diamonds, but to that other wealth called “stillness.”
So, with a coat, hat, and scarf, I immersed myself in my landscape of serenity.
In minutes, I felt disconnected from reality; the chatter in my mind finally stopped.
Around me, a world of crystal.
Literally.
It’s a phenomenon of this time of year known in as “hoarfrost,” or frost for short. It’s a prodigy that occurs when, on calm, humid nights, vapor transforms directly from gas to ice, creating on surfaces the delicate texture of a feather in the wind.
All the trees in the park and the city are covered in these tiny crystals of light.
The sound of the flowing river added to my visual spectacle.
In that moment of total relaxation, I exhaled very slowly and stopped trying to understand everything.
I found my moment of tranquility.
I returned home and, to warm up, poured myself a small glass of port, determined to begin my year with optimism and without impatience nor rush.
Stillness, port, and frost.
I think I’ve found my treasure.
