“Every plant and tree does spring it its own way, in its own time. The Sun appoints a date, an equinox for spring and autumn, a solstice for summer and winter. But Earth’s life doesn’t follow the precision of the Sun.
Seasons flavor the year with their own particular tastes: sweet, sour, hot, savory. Spring is a little bit of each if you hold it inside and let it be. I think nature is happiest when it’s allowed to be fully herself and loves those who wish to share in her just as she is — wild even when tamed, free even when fenced in.
Like spring, we all break in our own ways. Little by little. Defenses. Fears. Love blooms in new shapes. What we no longer need gets washed away like sediment flowing down storm drains in a spring downpour.
We’ll all emerge from quarantine different than we were before. Maybe it will be subtle. Maybe it will be radical. Some of us have experienced personal losses — life, money, jobs, love. But we all share in that now. The personal is universal. Every loss will be felt, either in the heart or in the new shape of our countries and our world.
Rebirth happens in our present lives. Some scholars say this is what the Buddha meant by reincarnation, not coming back in another life. They say he used reincarnation as a teaching tool so that people couldn’t understand the value of being good for its own sake would be good in the present if they feared punishment in the future. I think that makes sense, but who knows what he really said? I don’t. I don’t even recall where I read this.
Whoever or whatever it was that created us, you have to wonder, was all this interiority an unintended consequence of life or part of the design?
In all these quiet moments, I hear my breath. Every breath has it’s own journey. From the nose, one side or the other. To the chest, maybe more one lung than the other. Some breaths go deep and fill the whole body. In this quiet, being this human creature is enough mystery for me. I don’t want to know the chemistry or biology of this shell I inhabit even if it is more important to understand than ever before.
Spring is all about rebirth and remembrance. I feel that more than any season, it’s the season of the soul. Over the long winter, I forget about cherry tree blossoms and what they and a little Neruda can do. Spring won’t linger much longer.
This spring is beyond the pane. Out of reach most of the day. A cherry tree blossomed not far from my window. It was beautiful. Then the wind came and covered the block with cherry blossom confetti, and it was beautiful too. Soon it will be merely a green-leafed tree. But that’s okay. I know what it was when it bloomed, and I’ll hold it in my heart. By winter, I’ll forget, and it will be all new once again next spring.
Spring and humans are so much alike. We share fragility. Our blossoms get scattered in the wind, and yet we remain rooted here on Earth.”
Writer. One of those GenXers no one complains about. Find her http://annabreslin.com, or on Twitter – @WriterAnnaB