The date on the calendar indicates that it is spring, as does the location in its orbit round the sun of the earth in its tilted plane, as does the fact that the number of daylight hours now exceeds the number of night time hours in the northern hemisphere. Where I live, we begin to look for trout rising and frog eggs floating, for skunk cabbage and fiddleheads emerging, to listen for wood frogs quacking and wood thrush trilling, for peepers peeping and cardinals courting – the songs of the awakening earth.

But the first day of spring this year brought a foot of fresh snow, and I spent the day treading in snowshoes looking for evidence of life in the subtler tracks of fox, rabbit and deer (and perhaps a trailing coyote too).

I am reminded that life is not a command performance and that sometimes I must look for other, less coveted, signs that something is moving atop this frozen terrain, while underneath seeds await the thaw. I shall trust that the earth knows what she needs now, that there is wisdom in her ‘not yet’.

This evening I read these words “you need to stop listening to people who are in vastly different life circumstances and life stages than you tell you that you’re just not doing or being enough.” I wonder if that is something like telling the earth that she is not blossoming in the way and the time that we want her to, when we can’t possibly understand the deeper wisdom of her unfolding. As if we know better what is needed – to suit our own preferences. As if our wisdom is in any possible way more perfect than her own .

I want to allow my spirit to unfold as it will, to trust in the goodness of this season.

Last evening, curled up next to the fire, I came to a sudden realization that I am quite simply tired of the drama, weary of everything needing to be an outrage, a crisis, or something broken (or wrong) needing fixing. The noise of that spirals around me like a whirling nor-easter – in family and community, in news and technology- and threatens to drown out the song of this awakening spring. And so this blanket enfolds, quite wisely protecting the seed that has gone underground, until it is time, until those storms cease.

Because I am weary of the drama above does not mean I am weary of life here below though. At this season I simply want to be in love, not in turmoil. I want to revel in wonder, not in chaos. And I will emerge when the wisdom within me knows it is time, like a fiddlehead or a flower unfurling, and I will simply delight.

Because the earth needs quiet beauty more than it needs clashing cymbals.

Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Karen
    Mar 24, 2018 @ 12:40:56

    Yes! Beautifully articulated!



  2. kidfriendlyyoga
    Mar 25, 2018 @ 12:02:24

    Beautifully stated!



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: