examining weather as a framework for humanity & how to avoid being a duxbury duck: takeaways from this winter’s insane storms.
I can’t wait for spring.
This winter has felt particularly aggressive. The cold lingers, the storms feel heavier, and even the wind seems sharper than usual.
While many of us feel this way, there are always others who can’t get enough of the snow, the storms, the biting air. That’s the fascinating thing about weather: we all experience it, we commonly bond over it, yet our preferences can be completely opposite.
When we encounter someone who loves excessive snow or thrives in sweltering heat, we’re usually amused. We ask questions. We’re curious. We don’t feel the need to debate them or prove why our preference is correct. We don’t try to discredit their experience. We accept the difference and move on.
It just is.
What if we approached more of life this way? What if differences didn’t automatically trigger persuasion, defensiveness, or emotional charge? What if curiosity replaced the instinct to convince? And when necessary, we offered information not to overpower, but to expand awareness?
After the most recent snowstorm, I went outside to get fresh air and tacos. Before I even left my block, I was (happily) impressed with how clear the sidewalks were. This was before I learned of NYC Mayor Mamdani’s “shovel brigade”. A short from WCVB popped up on my YouTube page showing a street in Duxbury, MA buried under several feet of snow. Then more New England towns showing untouched roadways started to pop up. I was surprised. Not because the towns or cities hadn’t been out yet, but because the residents weren’t doing anything about it. I’m from those areas. I grew up with the understanding that maintaining roads and sidewalks was the municipality’s responsibility. But if life — and especially anything related to government — has made one thing clear to me, it’s this: ultimately, the only person responsible for saving you is yourself.
Right now, society feels like it’s teetering in a precarious place. When we imagine societal collapse, we often do so through a lens of fear — fixating on hardship and loss, inevitable byproducts of such events. But what if we zoomed out? What if, instead of spiraling into helplessness, anger, or stubborn paralysis, we prepared the way we prepare for a storm?We pick up our literal — or proverbial — shovels. We dig ourselves out of circumstances we didn’t create and may not control. The shovel brigade in New York City is a powerful demonstration of collective action: when individuals take responsibility for helping themselves, it inevitably benefits those around them.
Now imagine pairing that kind of collective effort with a rational, measured approach to our disagreements. We’d be unstoppable.
Until we get there, don’t be a Duxbury duck.
Pick up a shovel.
