For the first time in my life, I’m eagerly anticipating spring. Yes, even with the March of Sadness, even with the Lent, even with the rain (which may bring flowers but first brings chilly ennui), even with the Evil Time Change of Newly Dark Mornings, even with all the things I know to be true…
…I just can’t anymore with this winter. I am always dark and cold and holding myself together by hugging my ribs. I went to a yoga class last night, and we did fish pose, which I usually kind of feel “meh” about, but last night I realized it was the first time in weeks, in months, maybe since Nov 5th, that I’d opened up my rib cage, my heart, my energy, my spirit, and it felt wonderful.
It hasn’t snowed much, which doesn’t help. I love the snow. The magic. The hush. A snowstorm uplifts me. The grey-brown stagnant ground of a mild winter does not.
Our new country of Trumplandia is obviously not helping.
I’ve always been a morning person. Well, always meaning “when not a grungy teenager”. I’ve been getting up between 5:30am and 6:30am for the last 5 years, no problem. With vim. Loving that quiet time before the rest of the house wakes up. Even in the dark, cold, winters.
This winter I just…can’t. I’m pushing it later, and later, and later. This morning I got up at 7:05, which considering I have to be dressed and taking Isaac to the schoolbus at 7:15, is pretty terrible. Andrew is getting up before me. ANDREW, who is *not* in any way a morning person.
But, the other night, I was doing my early evening prayer at 5pm, and I noticed it was still light outside. Not light enough for me to read my bible without a candle (I’m old school with my early evening prayer), but not pitch black as I looked out the window.
And I felt a flicker of…hope? Was that hope? Energy? Spirit?
The sun gives energy to all living things on this earth. Maybe this spring, I even with the March, the Lent, the Rain, The Evil Time Change, I can look to the light again.
Like a fish.