Unknown Territory

Here in Northeast Wisconsin, warmer weather is arriving painfully slow. Spring makes an appearance then disappears, taking her green magic with her. This time of year we experience what I call Old Man Winter’s dark white. The extended transition time weighs heavy on the spirit of many folks. As each dark white day passes, the anticipation of spring  grows green in our hearts. We know spring will come but we worry about how long it’s taking to get here. It’s precisely this “knowing” that stirs up the crazy in people.

I watched a pair of robin’s, hopping through the snow, stopping occasionally on a grassy patch to cock their heads sideways and listen for worms. Later, they were bouncing through the branches of our crab apple tree gobbling down shriveled up fruit from last season. They don’t “know” when or where their next meal will come from, yet they survive on the unknown, living life in complete acceptance of what is.

Weather, a master at teaching non-judgment and surrender, gives us daily lessons on how to release control and follow the flow. The robin’s made it look easy. Following the flow is all about the awareness of whether you are flailing or floating through this fleeting moment.  To arrive at this place of complete surrender, give up the narrow mindedness of knowing and widen your mindfulness of the unknown—explore the great unknowns.

“It ain’t what you don’t know that gets you into trouble. It’s what you know for sure that just ain’t so.”~ Mark Twain

Deep Softness

All winter under a white shawl of snow and cold Mother Earth’s dreams kept her buried in warmth below the frost line. The line is gradually melting away and I feel her stir beneath my feet. Her deep softness rising. All of Mother Earth’s children are opening. Our brothers and sisters living in nature remember the gift of opening is to let light and warmth out as much, maybe even more, as it is to let it in.  Spring, the season for our deep softness to rise and shine.

Spring Heraldry Poem

On this, the calendars last day of winter,

my glance is drawn toward the bouncing crab apple branches to my right.

They’re laden with a feast of red wrinkled berries for a winged-one.

I saw the round bird’s gray-brown feathers with warm orange under parts flutter joyfully by.

On wings of anticipation the migration prayer has been consummated.

Springs ambassador has returned!

The vernal song hibernating within us is aroused.

“Cheerily, cheer up, cheer up, cheerily, cheer up”! The Robin sings.

On this, the calendars first day of spring.

 

American Robin photo by Dave Menke- US Fish and Wildlife (public domain)