We are nearly a month into what the calendar calls “spring” and it is cold outside…really fucking cold, and just to add insult to injury, it is also windy as hell.
(Is hell windy? Probably not, I just really feel like cursing today, damn it).
Actually, I am in a perfectly fine mood, albeit begrudging of the winter for overstaying his welcome. The howling wind outside makes me want to continue to turn inward, when what I want to be feeling this time of year is an opening…a blossoming…a gesture of expansion…
I want to be bursting with warmth and JOY, damn it.
I know, I know…warmth and joy should be found within, regardless of whether the weather is cooperating, but seriously…
My vision of spring does not include wool socks.
And yet, yesterday…ahh, yes…yesterday was beautiful…perhaps twenty degrees warmer. The sun shone. I was, at long last, liberated from my winter coat.
Fleeting as that taste of spring was…it was a reminder that winter won’t last forever.
It never does, you know.
Such is life.
Sometimes the cold hangs around longer than we would wish.
Sometimes it appears to leave, only to come rushing back…a frigid gust shocks us – just when we have dared to shed our protective layers.
But always, it relents.
It must, for the cold is not sustainable…and in knowing this, we must also understand – nor is the warmth.
We cycle through them, again and again.
We endure…and expand…and endure again.
So I will curl inward another day…and wait.
Spring will come, again.