Snow

On Saturday, we went on the first snow hike of the year. Me, the snow-obsessed newborn who predicted snowfall at 15 months old before anyone even taught her what snow was, purely by smelling the air, had already been homesick for mountains for weeks. Soul pull, heart pull, ancestral craving for snow, cheese, chocolate, and glacier lakes. I am basically Plüsch’s “Heimweh” song in human form.

But ever since more awareness entered my life; since being casually thrown into the flames of my life force and having my soul wake up to itself my emotional landscape has… shifted. Unless I’m actively purging stored emotions from my body, I mostly feel… neutral. Which is wild for someone who used to chase feelings like a sport. I still feel. Just differently now. I feel peace. Love. Heart-pulls toward places. The “green-light” for aligned actions. And occasionally, that deep shell-cracking pain that splits you open so something new can grow. Apparently, that’s just part of the deal now. And when something doesn’t feel right, I still get “bad vibes.” That’s not new. The difference is: now I actually listen.

Back to the hike. I’m a person who doesn’t love physical touch. But cold air? Cold air gets a VIP pass. I love how it nibbles at my skin. I feel my body when it’s crisp. You know those guided meditations where they tell you to “feel your body,” and you’re like… sir, I feel nothing? Same, unless there’s cold air, cold water, tight clothes, or I’m rolled into a burrito in blankets. Cold turns my system on. Makes me feel present. Also: I hate sweating. So it’s layers-off hiking with sleeveless tops. The more you move, the warmer you get. Perfect system. No notes.

The hike itself: which old me wouldn’t have even called a “hike” because it lacked the usual physical suffering, felt more like a poetic snow walk. Afterwards, we went into the city in search of glühwein and accidentally ran into the Christmas lights countdown. I couldn’t have cared less about the ceremony itself, but being at the right place at the right time felt quietly adequate. Like a shiny little cherry on top. 

Later, glühwein was found. And after five cups, I felt the pull to Bern hit me like a freight train. Not the usual soft background hum. This was the full-volume version, alcohol making everything feel more dramatic. The place my heart orbits. The gravitational field I pretend I can ignore. The comparison point for everywhere else on Earth. No matter where I go, Bern remains the blueprint. It’s like I do have a love of my life. It’s just… it’s a city. 

The next day, slightly betrayed by mild hangover physics and a late night, I chose warmth. Because yes, I may have walked sleeveless at 2000 meters in a snowy mountain landscape and rolled around in snow like an unsupervised puppy, my skin demanded reparations. Herbal teas. Hydration. Homemade masks. Balance. Warm porridge. Hot showers. At my next place, I am signing up for a bathtub. And a sunny terrace. And plenty of space for my indoor plants that are growing faster than my hair.