Before going to work in the morning, I stopped by the bank. On one side, it was snowing, everything completely white. The ground felt soft under my feet. Unlike the dark winter days, the whiteness brought a kind of brightness, a kind of joy.
Photo by Matthias Kinsella on Unsplash
While thinking about the beauty of the snow, the people and vehicles around me caught my attention. People were not obeying the traffic lights when crossing the street, cars weren’t staying in their lanes, and anxious drivers had no idea what to do. A real rebellion.
When I got into the car and tried to drive to work, I found myself doing the same thing. At first, I tried calmly to get to work. Many roads were closed. Snow was being cleared. On some roads there were accidents. Every stop meant sliding when starting again. I changed my route and tried the shortcut, but it wasn’t any better. This time the price of stopping was simply skidding. After a while, I ignored the traffic completely and made unrelated turns until I ended up back home.
Snow might actually be a good example of the beauty of anarchy. Suddenly, everything that is supposed to be, all the plans, all the routines, change. Just like when schools closed when we were kids, it brings a kind of happiness.
Snowflakes have their own behavior. Each one is different. Without asking anyone, they land wherever they want and cover everything. They practically repaint the surroundings. Colors, roads, scenery — they change everything without asking. They silently take over without even wondering.
Silence… And there is also the silence of snow. They even cut our noise, our voices. As if saying “enough, be quiet for a while.” An interesting kind of anarchy. Not chaotic or brutal , of course, unless you count the accidents it causes. On the contrary, it is a slow, silent, aesthetic takeover. As if it is giving the message that everything you do, everything you own, can change in one night: nothing is permanent.
It doesn’t only cover streets, roads, and dirt. It shakes even our fundamental human trait — movement — from its roots. Your confidence in your steps decreases; even the simplest, most trustworthy action gets questioned.
The vehicles we use become useless. Regardless of being rich or poor, everyone steps carefully on the ground. What you’re wearing loses its importance because when you fall, the pain you feel is the same. And the smile in a snowball fight is the same smile.
You also can’t exclude snow. You can’t say “it’s not one of us.” Even if you ask where it came from, you’re forced to live with it. Suddenly everyone has the same goal: clearing the snow and making life easier. Ideologies are forgotten, beliefs are forgotten. The only goal is to stay upright.
Snowfall has always seemed interesting to me. I have written about snow before. This time, beyond the melancholy and depressive cheer it brings, there is also a sense of liberation. As if it tells you about the simplicity of life. The insignificance of everything, yet also the pure fun in it. And with the brightness it creates inside the winter, it always gives a bit of hope.
Life can stop, freeze, and start again. Snow reminds me of this. Waking up on the darkest days to fresh snow, that light and that smile on your face, is like a note telling you that the things you consider important are meaningless, and the things you constantly postpone should no longer be postponed. One of nature’s most creative moments. A miracle forgotten by religions.
Anarchy is not destruction; it is possibility. A blank page falling from the sky. A note that removes boundaries and gives you a chance to start over. A moment that wipes traces, hides everything we built on the ground, softens rules, and makes life dimensionless.
Anarchy falling flake by flake: momentary yet radical change.
bahadirhancicek 
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