Here in the northern hemisphere we have just welcomed the first day of spring. In astronomical terms, this occurs on the vernal equinox on the 20th March. This ‘naming’ for me feels like a jolt or a jump from one thing to another. It feels unnatural and out of alignment with nature. This labelling and dating doesn’t connect with me in the way that the gentle transitioning of the world around me does.
I have been aware of nature beginning to unfurl, unfold and unravel for weeks. The snowdrops, the crocus, the multiture of tiny buds appearing on all plant life, the birds investigating nest sites, the hedgehogs stirring. It’s happening continuously … life doing its thing … even seeds lying in the ground in winter months are pulsing with energy, getting ready to rouse themselves from slumber.
In my life, for I am at one with nature (as we all are), I have been unfurling, unfolding and unravelling. It’s a force of nature without interruption, this growth, this awakening, this spiritual journey of the soul. It is magical. It is to us in our human form, a mystery. But what is magical and what is mystery? Nothing but human labelling.
The image above is a piece of mixed media art … one of a series I think of as my ‘dreaming mind’ paintings and below a recent prose poem.
Ice and Snow
Itās when the cold comes she steps outside into the blue night. She’s dressed in white tassels. The glass icicles in her hair help her feel part of this landscape. Her hands and feet tingle, energy propelling her forward. She moves faster. Snow crunches beneath her feet, a rhythm she finds soothing. Soft flakes fall to rest on her dark lashes, her red lips. She tastes them on her tongue. Flurries swirl around her, obscuring the distant mountains she knows are there. They beckon her on. She must reach them by morning, for when she does, she will know if he is waiting for her, like he promised. Always and forever as ice and snow.
LyndyH 