Spring is my favorite, once the sins of the last gray season are faded out and colors begin. There is a resurrection of every kind; Physical, Intellectual, Emotional and Spiritual.
Physically, I watch the thawing dirt in my flower pots to see if any green thing might stir to begin to unbend up and show it has survived. It is as if, I, too, begin to unbend and I feel the need to grow again. I begin to see the leaves begin to push through their winter cocoon. I see the bird arrive from the south and hear the robins marking their territory and calling for a mate. It happens, almost, suddenly. And daffodils quickly shoot up and begin to yellow in the blossom pods. I gather up egg carton cardboard trays and begin to push tiny seeds of potential into new potting soil and pat them down with wishes. Green takes over the browns and I feel it within as well.
I begin to research new spring recipes. I research the subjects on the theme of arising, resurrection, bursting forth. I seek empowerment themes. I share them. I am full of potential myself and begin to correct and expand my ways of thinking; my truths.
I feel a surge of emotions, almost weeping in relief that the hard pandemic winter is nearly over. It is as if we have gone through some great world event and lived… wait.. maybe we did. But, Spring is Hope personified, tenacity, resilience, and bravery to take on this next season as if it, and we, are all new.
Spirit is lifted from its repose. Hope, joy, and passion permeate the very air we breathe in. The soul surges as it prepares, like a tiger about to spring, to go full-steam ahead. Every day, as the daffodils prepare to spring open, I rise from my bed full of lists of things to do. But, spring catches me unaware and leads me down a whole new path. I am full of fairy tales, myths, and legends about everything that catches my eye. I have desperately waited for this. I am full of prayers of gratitude and a thousand thousand reasons to share hope. The top of my art desk lies waiting but I pay it no mind. I have new friends outside to visit and to know their symbols. Did I say I was grateful?
Having Spring spring, is like getting a new haircut when your roots are showing more than your old dye job. It is like a body, cramped from winter, that rises wanting to do more than the day before. It is a heart that near to bursts over seeing the first Spring crocus. It is soul that stands steady with one foot in winter doldrums and the other foot in fresh breath of prayers of gratitude. Past shreds off us and we rise into our own personal second coming. Feel it, sisterfriends; feel it all!
©Carol Desjarlais 4.9.22
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