It sort of rules. Think: Extreme. It's cold. Beastly cold around here. One can only venture out for minutes at a time. One only ventures out if it's absolutely necessary. Turns out most things aren't all that necessary. So it's an indoor kind of life for awhile. Thankful that the heating system is working and there is food in fridge. Thankful one is able to cancel appointments, and rewire the day to day. Priority one, don't freeze.
This kind of weather makes living in the Heartland seem sort of silly. Why exactly do we live here?
Plus, of course, it's kind of dangerous. Dangerously, crazily-cold. Things break down in this kind of extremity of temperature. There is an inwardness that comes to the fore. You naturally pull in, sink into your body, retreat to the center of your head.
You flash on that phrase, cabin fever.
"Stuck inside of Mobile with the Memphis blues again..." - B. Dylan. You really can't go out, even if you want to go out. There's a hint of claustrophobia hanging over you like a dark & bone-chilling cloud.
The reality: lots of your hopes & dreams & actions out in the world are now on-hold. They aren't all that tangible or real or necessary, anyway. They kind of vanish in the deep-freeze. So it's all a bit humbling. You aren't all that important, except maybe to your self. You are thrown back on simple & basic survival. Keep warm. Keep occupied. Keep calm. Carry on.
Yes. There's a lesson there. You are just a tiny entity in the face of a big, hostile reality. You can't wish it away, or spin it, or deny it. It is super damn cold, and that reality changes everything. Yes. There is a reality, a Universe of Truths, convenient, or not, that you must contend with. That is true in all aspects of your existence. Deal with the Deal that is Dealt. That's it.
