January 22

A morning for winter empiricism like no other. Let me explain. I am overly sensitive to this subject, sometimes to the point of righteousness which in the end probably doesn’t accomplish what I intend.

It was bitterly cold this morning, somewhere near 0 degrees with a light breeze out of the Northwest across the field and toward the house. I bundled up to take a walk around the Cournoyer fields at 5:00, well before even a glimmer of dawn.

I may have looked a little silly, bundled up in several coats, a hat, facemask and such, all to ward off the bitter wind chill.

The walk was fine enough, with freshly fallen snow crunching faintly beneath my feet, but the experience reminded me of what it must be like to be an astronaut on a spacewalk. I couldn’t feel the wind on any part of my body. My hearing was nearly blocked from all the layers, with the exception of my breath which when exhaled in the masks and earmuffs made a noise like a scuba air hose.

Aside from my motion (and what I could barely glimpse through slitted eyes), there was really no connection to the walk. My experience was separate from the sights, sounds and feelings that so normally are a part of being “in” the moment – the empirical nature that is the essence and beauty of simply being outside.

I watch my own students on campus, and in so many ways their own behaviors embody this empirical disconnect. They, like so many, spend more time living and communicating virtually with devices and one another that they have forsaken the genuine importance and worth of experiencing, of feeling and being an active participant in their surroundings.

Winter is a time for such battles, with the harshness of a morning walk filling my head. There’s nothing better to crystallize this point than to remove the coverings, of which I did. Boy, it was cold and felt of winter, so austere.