The first signs of spring have arrived here. This morning while driving the kids to school I noticed that the sun is rising earlier and it is daylight when we leave the house instead of dark. The birds have resumed their singing with a vengence, and they are covering our feeder so much so, that I think we will add another to our property. Today alone, we counted 14 cardinals, and several titmice, mockingbirds, doves, and juncos & sparrows, and wrens. Wow! In the gardens, we've noticed many plants are poking their little green heads above ground already and we have buds on many of the trees. There are even forsythia bushes in the neighborhood blooming already! Hopefully, late frosts won't kill them.
Inside the house, we began the metamorphysis of our seasons altar. We took away the snowflakes and evergreens and snowy white landscape. And added a sheer purple cloth, some felt flower fairies, a couple of bunnies, and some egg carton flowers we made last year and some seeds both bought and found inthe yard. We still have our sheep, Brigid doll and Goddess eyes and Brigid's cross up for a few more weeks, mostly because they are newly made this year and I wanted to enjoy them a while longer. As the weeks go by, up until the equinox, we will add more to our altar and it will become quite spring like in the colors and flowers that will find their way onto it.
I am so looking forward to spring, however, the daily om for yesterday was quite eye opening. And a reminder of "to everything there is a season".
The Necessity Of Winter
As any gardener knows, the bulbs that contain the beautiful flowers of spring and summer—daffodils, irises, tulips, gladiolas—cannot bloom until they have endured a period of cold. Held in the dark earth during the frigid winter months, they undergo internal adjustments and changes invisible to our eyes. Like babies gestating in the lightless, watery wombs of their mothers, they are fully engaged in the process of preparing to be born. So many of the greatest mysteries of life begin this way, with a powerful urge for growth enclosed in a small, dark space.We humans have a tendency to yearn for the light, for the coming of spring, and for the more visible phase of growth that all things express in coming to be. In our love for what we can see with our eyes we sometimes lose patience for, and interest in, the world of darkness that nurtures and protects the seeds, bulbs, and babies of the world for such an important part of their life cycles. It is a perilous and mysterious phase of growth, and one that we have little control over, and perhaps that is why we don’t celebrate it with quite the same passion as we do the lighter and brighter phases of life. Nevertheless, we ourselves endure similar periods of developing in the darkness throughout our lives. Meditating on the image of a bulb, a seed, or an embryo, can bring us into alignment with the side of our own natures that is like the earth in winter—seemingly asleep but busily attending to details of growth that create the pattern for the children, flowers, and creative expressions to come. Touching down on this place in ourselves, we may feel at once peaceful and activated, utterly still and yet fully creative, quietly in tune with the dark and mysterious beginnings of life.
Inside the house, we began the metamorphysis of our seasons altar. We took away the snowflakes and evergreens and snowy white landscape. And added a sheer purple cloth, some felt flower fairies, a couple of bunnies, and some egg carton flowers we made last year and some seeds both bought and found inthe yard. We still have our sheep, Brigid doll and Goddess eyes and Brigid's cross up for a few more weeks, mostly because they are newly made this year and I wanted to enjoy them a while longer. As the weeks go by, up until the equinox, we will add more to our altar and it will become quite spring like in the colors and flowers that will find their way onto it.
I am so looking forward to spring, however, the daily om for yesterday was quite eye opening. And a reminder of "to everything there is a season".
The Necessity Of Winter
As any gardener knows, the bulbs that contain the beautiful flowers of spring and summer—daffodils, irises, tulips, gladiolas—cannot bloom until they have endured a period of cold. Held in the dark earth during the frigid winter months, they undergo internal adjustments and changes invisible to our eyes. Like babies gestating in the lightless, watery wombs of their mothers, they are fully engaged in the process of preparing to be born. So many of the greatest mysteries of life begin this way, with a powerful urge for growth enclosed in a small, dark space.We humans have a tendency to yearn for the light, for the coming of spring, and for the more visible phase of growth that all things express in coming to be. In our love for what we can see with our eyes we sometimes lose patience for, and interest in, the world of darkness that nurtures and protects the seeds, bulbs, and babies of the world for such an important part of their life cycles. It is a perilous and mysterious phase of growth, and one that we have little control over, and perhaps that is why we don’t celebrate it with quite the same passion as we do the lighter and brighter phases of life. Nevertheless, we ourselves endure similar periods of developing in the darkness throughout our lives. Meditating on the image of a bulb, a seed, or an embryo, can bring us into alignment with the side of our own natures that is like the earth in winter—seemingly asleep but busily attending to details of growth that create the pattern for the children, flowers, and creative expressions to come. Touching down on this place in ourselves, we may feel at once peaceful and activated, utterly still and yet fully creative, quietly in tune with the dark and mysterious beginnings of life.
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