Not Feeling Springy

3 months ago, I wrote this:
This year, I’m leaning into the cold, dark season of change. I’m being present in winter, and won’t reset when her freezing arms come to wrap me up. To preserve me. To prepare me. Like bulbs under frozen ground. (see blog post)

Now, I'm not ready to wake up from my slumbering wintery grief. But the sun shines brighter and longer, the birds are singing, and something inside me knows it's time to shift. I'm not wholly convinced I'll be able to appreciate spring this year. But I'm also starting to realize that maybe I don't have to. Maybe the changes around me will be enough to pull me from this dark, cozy place. Maybe...

"You don’t have to understand life. You just have to live it.”
― Matt Haig, The Midnight Library

An Exploration of Spring

In a desperate attempt to embrace spring energy tonight, I grabbed my book, journal and a blanket, and trudged out to the hammock in the trees. Early spring isn't always warm in Washington, especially in the evening. But the air felt drier than usual. Knowing spring brings weeks of rainy weather, I felt I had to take advantage. The birds are still singing in the trees at 7pm. And I needed some fresh air, as they say, to uplift my mood and perk me up.

...

A cold plunge. That's what it felt like. Cold and uncomfortable. But I forced myself to stay, knowing it's good for me. Adjusting the blanket so it covered every inch of leg possible, I opened my book. That's when I saw the first mosquitos fly directly at my face. I shot back, flailing wildly, causing the tree branch to shake above me, as if chuckling at me. I opened back to my chapter, but lost my spot a second and third time when a string of hair tickled my neck, or a slight breeze caught my exposed thigh.

I wrote a few thoughts down. And for a few blissful minutes, I forgot the cold and the bugs. I settled in. I wrote a poem, "Stuck in a Lost Train of Thought". And when I was done, I remembered I was cold.

I gathered all my things and went back inside. From start to finish, I had breathed 25 minutes of spring air.

Inside my cozy home, I brewed a cup of tea, and found a cozy (warm) spot next to the window to finish my work and read a chapter in "These Precious Days" by Ann Patchett.

I sipped and I thought to myself, "that exploration of spring was a success, though I'm not sure why." Even as I scratched at a newly forming pink spot forming on my ankle. Even with that.

The Resilience of Blackberries

"The beautiful spring came,

and when nature resumes her loveliness,

the human soul is apt to revive also."

― Harriet Ann Jacob

One fall, I decided to conquer the hundreds of square feet of blackberry bushes that were creeping towards my house and encroaching on my space. For weeks, I put on overalls and boots and braved the thorns. I cut and pulled and dug up piles and piles of bushes. It was hard, laborious work. My hands were stained purple and there were cuts and scrapes all over my body. But I was so proud of myself.

All through the winter, I looked out of my window and smiled at the work I'd done.

The following spring, I spent my time seeding and planting in my garden beds, and didn't realize until mid summer that the blackberries had crept back in.

In fact, by the end of the summer, they had taken back all the space I'd cleared, plus a few additional feet.

In springtime, it's impossible not to see resilience. It's everywhere. The resilience of blackberries should be studied. But not just them...

After my dad died in November, one of my best friend’s moms gifted me bulbs from her garden.

“Plant them now,” she said, “they need to winter down in order to grow in the spring”.

I did. The ground froze many times. I never watered them or fertilized. I left them. This week as I was walking to my car, I saw the first bloom. I could see it from the hammock again tonight as I wrote. A small, bright yellow daffodil.

There is an energetic shift, and things literally begin to move, to sing, to change. The duality of sunshine and rain provides the perfect conditions for fertility and growth. Life itself is more prominent and visceral in Spring, more than any other season.

Bulbs buried deep in the cold hard ground spring forth flowers in yellows, pinks, purples and oranges. Trees bud and create gorgeous leaves in every shade of green, and blossoms of pink.

Forests and fields, vacant and silent for months, begin to awaken with each sunrise. Home to deer and chipmunks and squirrels and bunnies and birds of all colors and songs.

"New Beginnings" seems to be the motto of spring. But that doesn't really resonate with me. It feels incorrect. It implies life has ended and restarted. The truth is:

In Spring, Earth becomes a Living Testament of Resilience. How honored I feel to be a witness to such an event.

Awakening Curiosity

"Springtime is the land awakening. The March winds are the morning yawn."
― Lewis Grizzard

The week leading into the solstice, I read a book called The Midnight Library by Matt Haig. This was intentional. While some critics don't appreciate the straightforward approach, calling it a "self help manual in disguise", most of the reading world love this book for it's hopeful and thought-provoking messages. I am among the latter, who loved the book. The themes truly helped me to emerge from the slumbering winter and shift my perspective towards growth.

“The paradox of volcanoes was that they were symbols of destruction but also life. Once the lava slows and cools, it solidifies and then breaks down over time to become soil - rich, fertile soil.
She wasn't a black hole, she decided. She was a volcano. And like a volcano she couldn't run away from herself. She'd have to stay there and tend to that wasteland.
She could plant a forest inside herself.”
― Matt Haig, The Midnight Library

Emerging from this book was like coming from a great therapy session. It took some time to process everything, but you immediately felt better. I found myself feeling more self-compassion, and a desire to live presently.

More than anything else, she helped me think about this question: What I want from life? How will I get it?

And not in a "make sure your goals are specific and measurable" kind of way. It was more like looking out from the airplane window for the first time. That feeling of being inspired. Of wanting more from life. Of realizing it's YOURS for the taking, if you're courageous enough.

This inner curiosity has never left, not since spring started and I finished this book.

Self Compassion: A Practice

"In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt,"

― Margaret Atwood

Spring has always been my time for projects: landscaping, cleaning and organizing.

Plant a vegetable garden, complete outdoor projects before the sun gets hot, finish my bathroom remodel, bake fresh bread on Tuesdays. Do not let spring pass me by!!

Do I have it in me this year?

No. I do not.

My intention this year reflects my desire for personal growth, emotional resilience, and healing.

Here's what I'll do:

• Add color to my home - this one is fun because it involves thrifting! I've already gotten a jump start on this, but I also have plans for small things such as a hanging planter, getting rid things I don't vibe with, and some patterned curtains.

• Grow flowers - I haven't focused on this in the past. Typically I'm all about growing veggies but I think this year I need a change of pace. And more color.

• Grow a 5 healing tea herbs, to use fresh and to store for fall!

• Keep a gratitude journal - I found a perfect notebook a few weeks ago and bought it, not knowing why. Now I do. I need to write positive things, to train my brain to see and believe that positive things happen in my life. This may be difficult to do daily but I want to try.

• Find one new wild plant to forage.

• Go on 3 girl dates with besties: brunch, smores, thrifting etc.

• Do not let the season will pass me by! Just because it will look different, doesn't mean it won't be a powerful season of growth for me. <3

I'd say, I'm already off to a great start.

xo, Brooklyn