I woke the other morning to a snowstorm outside my window. It was coming down in thick, chunky clumps, with nary a delicate snowflake to be found.

I was reminded of something I had read, written by a person who equated those condemning the current administration to ‘snowflakes’. I had to think about that description for a second. Snowflakes? Who doesn’t love the singular splendor of snowflakes? Apparently the author was making the point of how delicate and inconsequential both the arguments and the people were.

Wow.

Seeing the weight of the snow bending the branches almost to breaking, and the blanket of snow taking over everything it touched, did not engender a feeling of delicacy. But maybe he had a point.

Whenever I’m assessing a new idea, I always put it on, like a sweater or hat, via a series of questions.

#1. Am I a snowflake?

Hard as it was, I had to answer ‘Yes’. My self-perception is that I am unique, distinctive, maybe even special. (I say this while making a bad smell face at myself.) This is not necessarily in line with the greater ideals I embrace, but it’s an honest admission.

#2. Am I the type of snowflake – fragile, sensitive, and easily melted by a little bit of heat – the author was referring to?

Even harder to admit – Yes. Especially in the recent past where I’ve felt daunted by the goings on in my community and country, and let myself dissolve into the intensity of it all.

#3. What else?

I took the ‘insult’ personally because it had already been living inside my own head. I don’t want to be frail and fleeting. I want to be strong and powerful and invincible!

I try to conjure the opposite of a snowflake. Maybe a steel girder or a concrete slab, neither of which are appealing to me in any way. They do not reflect the fluidity of my body and mind that I truly cherish. They do not reflect the subtlety of my humanity or even the fragile, fleeting nature of my existence.

Then it came to me. I am not any of it. I am all of it.

I am the beautifully unique snowflake AND the sturdy ground it falls on. My singularity and evanescence do not diminish my power and impact.

We snowflakes can make quite a ruckus, as evidenced by the much-needed snow day that resulted from each of those tiny flakes collecting on the ground. Which is why it would be folly to be dismissive or disdainful about any of it.

Love your snowflake, friend. And know that within your exquisite beauty lies a strength that can topple trees. And close roads. And blanket the world in bright white light.

Call me a snowflake? Thank you.

Check out my crystals,

Pascale