/3 minute read/
And to our surprise, February is over and March comes rolling in. The longer days, the warm sunlight, the building desire for summer nights. But before we move forward, I’d like to look back. For February was as much as a roller coaster as January, but March carries the hope of warming. Thawing ourselves out of our winter shell, bare feet on the dewy grass. Is spring not the time for planting new seeds? For nurturing small growth? The ground in which we have prepared, lays fertile with potential. We know that springtime breeds hope, new blooms, and a fresh landscape to dance upon. I mentioned to someone how my life has felt different and chaotic in ways, that perhaps I have been moving backwards. And with a simple reply she said, “Well, it’s just the spring of your life.”
Shifting to this new outlook, I wondered what it really meant, that saying. We associate spring almost as the savior of the winter, the hero to rescue us from the bitter cold mornings and frosty windshields. But one day we skip around in sundresses and shorts, and another we zip our jackets all the way up, not yet packing the winter wear away. A spring that fluctuates, that can’t quite decide if it is the precursor to summer or the finale of the winter. I see myself in the indecisiveness of the weather, not sure of the best choice to make. I propose the spring of our life to be the time where we embrace being unsure, a time where we can vary the trajectory of our life, backed by the wistful hope that spring lays within us. The wind carries new seeds to other places, and we are no exception.
As new flowers bloom about, the pressure of perfection matters less and less. To be in the spring is to fail without consequences, to try new things without commitment. Defeat is only perceived as defeat when the redirection goes unnoticed. A door that is closed allows you to walk along another path. There is plenty of time to find success, and twice as much to fail and try again. Can failing become playful? Silly and careless in the amount of attempts it takes to stumble upon the right path. There is no shame in trial and error.
The beauty of the spring can not prevail without the ground that has been prepared for flourishing. Giving credit where credit is due, the success blooms from preparation. If the soil is unfit, it is frivolous to expect anything. So much time is wasted chasing external bliss, when not enough time is spent mending what lies within. Trimming the rose bush of our minds. The spring of our lives is for turning to our insides. The soul behind our actions, the way we care for ourselves. When a healthy foundation is laid, only then is there potential for prosperity. As the buds peek out from the earth, we know that attention and care is needed for growth. How can we water the floweret of ourselves?
Crushing petals between our fingertips, “he loves me, he loves me not”. The fresh smell of roses floating through the air. Beginning again is the new game to play. The rules are simple. Whenever you believe things to be ill-fitting; something doesn't sit right in your stomach, a shirt you’ve outgrown, you start over. Every month, maybe every week, perhaps every minute on the minute. The spring of our lives tells us that trying new things can be rewarding, but not everything needs to stick. We begin to bud, not sure how we will bloom, not needing to know.
“April showers bring May flowers,” so let’s not forget the forceful nature of the season. As I write, the spring winds are violent against my window. Shaking the house, breaking branches, the twigs and the pine cones land where they may. But the brutality becomes a necessity. The rattling of the structure we lay ourselves upon, let’s us observe how we exist and find new patterns of being. The weak branches that fall away only strengthens the tree, nothing worth carrying around, as it no longer serves the trunk. And once the storm blows past us, the wind that shook us away left us bare and maybe with nothing we once had. The spring of our lives tells us that releasing makes more room for what is yet to come.
And after the storm the sky is painted with a rainbow. A moment to stop and smile. It’s the time to ponder, where introspection is welcome and questions are bountiful. The season of curiosity. Wonder where we’ll be, who we are, where we’ll go, where to lay down our bones. And yet the spring can be about being still. Finding the patch of grass your feet are already on and cultivating the scene around you. Being quiet, being peaceful. Because what’s the rush? The flowers bloom regardless.
see you in the springtime,
natalie <3
