These days are the silent demonstration that life overcomes death, that at some point the winter must also die to be reborn in a new form. Like everything and everyone.
I was thinking what a flexible role winter plays… Strengthening the roots by folding in on itself, reassembling, nourishing itself… What a brilliant acceptance of life… To be part of the darkness to give way to the light, even if it doesn’t live it… or lives it already overlapped in another self, in the form it took and that no longer belongs to it -because the transformation is so remarkable, that it has already mutated into another state. It’s a new state that contains it, because in the end everything is part of the whole. Spring.
Sometimes we forget the processes. Sometimes the calendar pages and autumn leaves fall, and winter and spring arrive -just like the gas bill, the Sunday paper or the pizza delivery. We take them for granted.
The seasons of the year are a process of life.
They remind us that everything has its time, even if we almost never give our time to wait for it… Of course! Who has the time today to observe themselves for days, months or years? We cannot even wait eighteen seconds for the traffic light to change from red to green. We can’t wait ten seconds for a website to load… and we press Enter, and Esc, and Ctrl Alt Del… And the time we wanted to win, wins.
Time always wins.
There is much that spring owes to winter. The color and vibration is the result of great dedication and effort, as it happens to us.
We admire the achievements of many people, but just a few would be willing to go through the obstacles and vicissitudes they overcame to reach them. Just a few would tolerate being winter.
That is why the neighbor’s garden always seems greener.
I choose to celebrate this rebirth.
I wish that this winter has nourished your roots, or at least that you have taken the time to observe them.
And if it didn’t, and the winter passed over you like a lightning in the sky, without noticing it, may you recognize this new breath as another opportunity to begin. And perhaps, why not, next winter you will remember to look inward to prepare the ever-fertile soil.
Like Persephone, hold out the hope of breaking the chains and stepping out into the light. Always.
*This is a text I wrote many years ago, in my first blog. And it resonates in me in the same way as it did then -when spring used to begin for me in September.