Confessions Of A Blizzard Junkie

       I’m writing this from the Holiday Inn in Salem, New Hampshire. What am I doing up here? Simple. I’m an addict. And this is where my fix is.
        No. I’m not chasing the dragon. I’m chasing the storm. Hi. My name is Clint. And I’m a blizzard junkie.
        Admittedly, this is an peculiar addiction. There aren’t any meetings for it, anywhere. I’ve never met another member, and I’ve never even heard anybody else cop to it. Even the twelve steps are inapplicable.
        But this is an addiction. And I hope I never kick.
        Like every kid, as a boy I found the snow to be absolutely magical. Most people lose their fascination and excitement for the snow as they get older. Not me. My wonder and passion for it has actually deepened.
        I understand why people don’t like snow storms. They’re another disruptive element in an already hectic life. They screw up plans, throw a wrench in the schedule, take up precious time, and often have detrimental financial implications.
        There are a million reasons to hate the snow. And only one reason to love it. But that one reason, well it’s a whopper.
        The snow changes my experience of life.
        Whenever it snows, I experience life on a whole new continuum. It’s like being on a different planet, or existing in some strange fantastic parallel universe. Everything looks different. Sounds different. Smells different. Feels different. Both physically and metaphysically, the landscape is radically altered.
        Whenever it’s snowing, I’m certifiably happy and positively joyous. All because of some white stuff that falls from the sky. Tell me that’s not magic.
        This latest run to inject snow into my life was a rather impulsive decision. Although I contemplated chasing this storm for a few days, the actual decision to get up and do it was made on the spur of the moment. Cape Cod had just received a healthy dose of some premium product on Friday. I figured that I’d be satiated. But when I woke up on Sunday, and the forecast was rain, I started jonesing. I could feel the gremlin on my shoulder saying “Just a few short hours away, there’s a winter wonderland. You have to be in Boston on Monday anyway. Go on. Do it.” Within moments of hearing that voice, it was Gee-Oh. Game Over. I was gone within an hour.
        I realize that this sojourn into white may seem totally ludicrous to most. And I’m well aware of how illogical it is. But thankfully, I don’t base every decision on logic.
        Is storm chasing an efficient use of resources? Nope. Is it certifiably crazy? Maybe. Is it inspired action? Oh Yeah, Baby. And whenever I live from inspired action, I’m lead to life’s treasures. One way or another.
        I like to think of myself as a big picture sort of person. And the big picture is that whatever I could have gotten done by staying home can get done another day. It’s still going to be there. But the snow storm is ethereal. Transient. Weather Witchcraft. Like lightning in a bottle. To catch it, I have to operate from a sacred place. From an artist’s place. Where imagination is more important than knowledge. Where my heart and soul lead my mind and body. Where inspired action is far more valuable than reason or logic.
        So I chased the storm and entered my whimsical world once more. I’ve been here all day. I never regret doing that. Especially this time of year.
        Snow. The other white drug. Want a hit?

©2008 Clint Piatelli. All Rights (and a snow storm worth of Wrongs) Reserved