It was early
February when I first noticed a change in the quality of the light. As the
weeks passed, birdsong grew
richer, and the sun began inching a bit further northward each morning as it
cleared the horizon.
Daylight savings time arrived, and headlights were suddenly
unnecessary on my drive home from work. The Vernal Equinox came and went, and
now Easter is here. And I can believe, at last, that spring has arrived.
Spring, glorious spring, that time of rebirth and renewal.
The trick with renewal, though, is that it is usually preceded by depletion. And to be reborn, one must suffer a death.
The trick with renewal, though, is that it is usually preceded by depletion. And to be reborn, one must suffer a death.
This winter has been particularly challenging for me.
Nothing disastrous, but I have often felt depleted, and small, private deaths
have come one atop the other. The details are not important, but expectations
have shriveled and fallen by the wayside. The illusion that I know what’s best
and can control the world around me has perished many times over.
I am quite certain that I’ve not seen the end of my tendency
to want life to conform to my wishes. I do feel, though, that a major shift has
occurred. This difficult winter seemed a definitive step in the process of
slicing away that which is untrue or unnecessary, all that keeps me bound up
and resisting the grand sweep of life itself.
So, while this time has been intense, I have not felt~~for
long anyway~~victimized by its demands. Each discreet event offered an opportunity
to open my heart wider, to trust more deeply, to play more fully my unique part
in life’s unfolding.
The word remember
literally means to become a member again. I have learned better to remember
myself into the eternal flow. I don’t control that flow, nor do I sit passively
on the river banks, observing what transpires with detachment. No, I am solidly
in it, a part of it, one with it all. I do what’s mine to do, putting my heart
and soul into it, and life takes me and those I love where it will.
Life, dazzlingly alive, continually moves us. Our individual
stories unfold as night becomes day, and as Earth sweeps us ‘round the seasons.
And here we are, brought once again through the darkness of the crucifixion,
the sadness of grief. Christ’s example of willing surrender offers a model for
how to meet our own travails. And his resurrection brings hope.
Spring doesn’t come without winter, but come it does.
Spinach leaves poke through the warming soil of our garden. Trees bud. And from
my core, hope sprouts anew. I am lighter from my winter’s work and stand ready
to greet what comes.
Wishing you each a delightful spring of rebirth and renewal.
Namaste!
Loanne Marie
