©Jane A. Simington PHD, 2014
This morning at dawn,
prodded by a magical stirring in the air,
I wandered a wooded area
to capture signs of spring I knew would be there.
The Geese are back, the Robins too;
Pussy willows? I saw a few.
Wild things need no temple; they need no bells to ring.
The breezes coming from the South
have told them it is spring.
In this outdoor cathedral, standing on holy ground
I marveled at the lessons of rebirth that I found.
The unborn beauty beneath the earth
again reminded me,
That life renews with joy, and peace, and immortality.
My time in nature always brings a deep sense of awe and gratefulness for the many lessons gleaned from seasonal changes. The metaphoric similarities of the repetitive cycle of birth, death and rebirth bring promise of renewal. Since ancient times, spring festivals have been based on this theme and those still held in sacred circles around the world continue to honor our Human-Earth connections. Such ceremonies acknowledge how the external reminders of spring parallel a rekindling of light and warmth in our inner world. In Aboriginal cultures, the metaphor of the movement from cold and darkness into warmth and light is that of the journey of the Great Bear from the cave. Hibernation is brought to an end, by the warming rays of the Eastern sun. Hungry and eager to ingest the goodness and warmth of spring, the Great Bear leaves behind the cave’s cold and darkness.
Springtime can be any time when the light increases in our mind and in our spirit, for anytime this occurs, an increase in our sense of freedom follows. A butterfly’s process of metamorphosis and release from the entrapment and darkness of the cocoon is a common symbol of the transition from darkness into light and freedom.
Springtime and all of its reminders of renewal provide a great opportunity for recognizing that difficult life experiences have two separate aspects: the destructive aspect and the transformative aspect. During the destructive aspect we feel robbed and stripped of what we once had and have no longer. We grieve and we mourn. Yet, our long days of darkness, our times in the caves, times in the cocoons, change us, transform us. When we emerge from the caves, when we crawl from the cocoons, we know we are not the same beings that entered.
As spring replaces winter, I hope that the seasonal changes awaken for each of us a renewed hope in the cycles of life and death and transformation. May the increasing hours of sun deepen our recognition that every year spring brings bare earth to bloom. May the seeds we have sorted during our long winter days and nights, and selected for planting, be fertile and sprout with many new leaves in the light and warmth of the spring sunshine.