Under the Snow
You were caught in an avalanche. To be rescued, you need to make it through the night. What thought(s) would give you the strength to go through such a scary, dangerous situation?
Since I regard snow as nasty, cold, wet stuff that anyone in their right minds avoids – and since, on that score at least, I’ve been in my right mind for about 50 years – my chances of being caught in an avalanche are precisely nil and not about to change anytime soon.
Furthermore, if by some freak of global warming the sub-tropical northern coast of NSW (Australia) was suddenly struck by tons of snow and I found myself buried in it (as I walked along the beach, perhaps?) my chances of survival would be nonexistent, whatever cosy thoughts I might drum up about my family, my future goals, birdies singing or the Omnipotence of the Universe.
I don’t do cold. My body doesn’t like it. Any smidgeon of warmth it may have managed to generate by normal metabolic process – minimal – turns tail and flees at the first sign of external temperature drop. My bones freeze, and my grey cells retreat into instant, self-protective hibernation, which doesn’t leave much room for constructive thought.
So let’s cut to the chase, here. If you’re going to bury me in an avalanche, that’s it: finish, curtains, the end. And before you indulge in such random fancy, you might want to consider that my children could well sue you on the basis that had I lived longer, I might have won lotto.