Spring arrived in this part of the world riding atop storm clouds, but the rain has brought a welcome change in the scenery. The mountains here are once again towering walls of green. The spring garden is thriving with cool season greens and perennial herbs that seem to grow before our eyes. The warming weather brings a family to the neighborhood in the form of a pair of nesting finches who have taken up residence in one of our hanging baskets. The hatchlings aren’t out of their eggs yet, but are already being referred to as Atticus, Scout, and Jem. A toad has taken up residence in a pot of mint and a lined skink is currently sunning itself on one of the porch uprights. There is life everywhere you look, even in the tiny space that is my back porch.
There is even life in me these days, a renewed sense of curiosity and longing to be back in a less passive mindset when it comes to my practices and all things spiritual. It is a marked sign of my own withdraw from these things that I have gone through the last two seasons without feeling drawn to any sort of mystery. I’ve had no mind to dwell in places of uncertainty and the unknown has remained undiscovered in my presence. I’m not bothered by it, as there are cycles to my practice and awareness that include times when all is silent and untold.
Yet, spring has brought a returned sense of liminality and wonder. The scent carried on the spring breezes is new – spicy and deep-toned, touched with wood smoke and the wetness of hidden mountain streams and moss-encrusted rocks and lacking entirely the usual delicate floral notes of spring winds. The leaves whisper of undiscovered places over the next hill and the next and the next. Dream become vivid and sharp again, full of energy and intrigue. Anticipation creeps back into the picture, a pleasant tension that something good is on the horizon. It is time to again seek out the mysteries and the hidden. It is time that I come back to the roots of my practices, to remember why I am on this journey. It is a time of renewal.