Becalmed upon the sea of Thought,
Still unattained the land it sought,
My mind, with loosely-hanging sails,
Lies waiting the auspicious gales. 

On either side, behind, before,
The ocean stretches like a floor,–
A level floor of amethyst,
Crowned by a golden dome of mist. 

Blow, breath of inspiration, blow!
Shake and uplift this golden glow!
And fill the canvas of the mind
With wafts of thy celestial wind. 

Blow, breath of song! until I feel
The straining sail, the lifting keel,
The life of the awakening sea,
Its motion and its mystery!

–Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 1862

Becalmed is a sailing term that describes the state of the absence of wind.  Of course, when there is no wind, there is no sailing, so being “becalmed” is not normally a desirable state.

Becalmed isn’t something you do, it’s something that is done to you.  Like everything else, you hold the power to decide if being becalmed is to be dreaded or delighted. If you’re trying to get someplace, it is a bad thing.  If you’re looking for some calm and maybe some respite, its a good thing.

I’m from New England where it snows.  Like a lot.  Like twice or three times a week is not unusual – at least it wasn’t 30 years ago when I lived there.  Even though snow is normal, every then and again there would be a “special snow” – a snow that made everyone venture to the grocery store and fill bathtubs and all that.  “Special snow” could becalm an entire city.  Really “special snows” could becalm an entire state.

Weather has a way of doing that:  forcing us into our caves to bundle up or whatever the response might be.  Weather has a way of becalming us.

We have some special weather coming once again our way.  I suppose we should get used to wilder and wilder swings in weather.  This weekend, the weather will probably becalm many of us.  My hope is that if you are lucky enough to avoid any weather-related drama that you are able to take spiritual advantage of the becalming and allow yourself the luxury of enjoying the stillness forced upon us by the weather.

Longfellow fought the stillness.  He called for the wind of inspiration and song to blow to fill the sails of his mind.  I get that.  Being becalmed is not everyone’s cup of tea.  

This weekend, when we all lie together each in our on spaces, each still, I wish for you the power of a spirit able be joyfully still; able to bottle up the urge to call on the winds to blow. And then one day soon, when the becalming has moved on to another place, to uncork those urges to have the wind fill the sails of your spirit.

Ecclesiastes reminds us that there is a time and a place for everything.  Its up to us to decide what time is for what purpose under the sun or under the cold.