“During periods of snow accumulation, avoid steep slopes and do not enter dangerous gullies where snow avalanches may occur”.
Let’s not pretend. This is a very useful piece of advice. Even when the Central Communication Port (CPK) is established in the heart of Poland, which may be the chosen country, we remain a species not so inclined to flight. Now, in the face of the cold wave, we must face the hard truth: people cannot fly. Not a single one of us. We can’t flee from an avalanche. No one can.
Even those bred in military laboratories for the most special tasks can’t fly on their own, by their own strength.
Yet, somehow we manage, even in winter.
Let’s not fuss over an army of drones precisely delivering hot café lattes and personalized grenades to a specified address.
We manage because unlike more aerial species, we immediately know what to do with something as soul-crushingly lifeless and sterile as snow.
The most optimistic piece of information is that children handle the futility of snow the best. They don’t fly, but they zoom around, craft snowmen brilliantly, freely, with laughter, effortlessly. Don’t enroll them in snow-sculpting courses.
There probably aren’t any credible statistics correlating the frequency of mirror use with the number of snowmen made. The quantitative aspect of social sciences is still far from perfection.
Since kids are crafting such beautiful snowmen for free, instead of checking every quarter to make sure we are still ourselves, instead of reading about Lacan’s “mirror stage” – let’s just go for a walk.
Let’s limit the expansion of sophisticated systems recording our behavior. Snow, with a small addition of bright imagination, can replace them.
Let’s stroll, reciprocating the genuine smile of every snowman we encounter.
We don’t have to walk along lines. Snow clearly ignores existing borders and divisions, nullifying lines. Cautiously giving up this habit might be a quite successful first step in a shortened course of flying.
Don’t worry, there won’t be a fire. Only the bottom of one of several old Magritte paintings from the “La condition humaine” series is burning. We’re rubbing our hands already. Next week, we’re installing a complex fire protection system in Atlas.
Something might burn, maybe a painting. For now, let’s read and not get too close to the edge of our reading.
