It has been Spring for a week and this morning we woke up to snow. This is typical for here, but arduous, as we yearn for warmth and increased activity. We are surrounded by the muted colours of this season, eyes seeking more vibrancy and intensity. We are living in transitional space, liminal space, and we feel the weight of occupying the in between. We wait.
The wheel of the year is turning, slow yet palpable. Waiting at the threshold, incubating, reminder after reminder to stay where we are, be present, rather than get ahead of ourselves. The future reveals itself concurrent with new buds opening, plant life pushing itself above the surface, the great unfurling. We’re almost there, but aren’t yet. The finishing can be excruciating.
Old and new at once. We make a practice of letting go and grasping towards what is to come. The future is uncertain but it’s new and that newness is intoxicating. It’s hard to be grateful for the in between, to recognize the transition as a destination in itself. We have the same access to wisdom right now as we ever do, but it is less obvious. Unlike the extremes around the solstices, it is muted. More is required of us to listen. That said, if we do choose to listen right now, the benefits are great, possibly greater than at another time, because here in the Northern hemisphere, we are at the beginning of another glorious cycle.
Hold that difficult space we are meant to embody. Fill it with the hopes and dreams and care you must bring to this year. Finish gathering what you need to take the next steps and prepare to allow yourself to be reborn.