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The Purity of Snow


About Water...

I was re-watching The Secret of Water, which I do at least a couple of times a year. And I was struck, this time, by the section about water’s memory. Water retains memory of everything it comes into contact with. But that memory is only retained until water changes form—when it changes from liquid to solid, from solid to vapor, or from vapor to liquid again.

Soon after, I was walking the dogs in the falling snow, one of the first snowfalls of the season. And as always, it hit me how clean, how pure it felt. And then I recalled that segment, and I realized snow feels that way because it is that way.

It has just turned from vapor to snowflake, and all it knew before has been erased. It is a blank slate, waiting to fill itself with experience.

It made me wonder if that’s how it is with passing from this life. I wondered if all memory is erased, and the thought of that didn’t feel good to me. What is it all for if we don’t retain it?

An answer came to me soft as snow. It’s not erased. It’s assimilated into the Whole. We don