Spring In My Step.
The first signs of spring first slipped through the house when my cat began her incessant meowing at the window. Looking longingly at the green grass, she began to make it known that she had a strong desire to venture outdoors.
Following her demanding orders (after all, she is queen), I took her outside and sat with her on the lawn.
As she explored and snacked on the various grasses, animal instinct taking over as her ears moved to the sound of the chirping birds singing their spring song, I took a minute to look around me.
Spring had arrived, that much was evident.
Green grass glowed, the sun shone, and there was this smell of rich Mother Earth as she began to wake from her long winter’s nap.
After spending an extended season indoors and in the confines of my dour and often depressing thoughts, the brilliant sunshine all but stung my eyes as I adjusted myself to the brightness and change of scenery.
A change of scenery that was more than welcome in my life.
Like the plants that were once buried underneath mounds of snow, I felt myself physically and mentally unfurling from months of hibernation, stretching and grasping for sunshine. For life, for growth.
Though I did not handle this last winter well, I made it through and came out alive. Maybe a little bruised, maybe a little heartbroken, maybe having experienced some of the rougher parts of growing as a young adult, but all the more wiser and thoughtful about myself and life.
The thing I most admire about Mother Nature right now, her bountiful greenery reflected back at me in a freshly mowed lawn and the vibrant color of living breathing life, is that like me, she just spent the last six months buried beneath heaps of cold snow and ice.
And though part of Mother Nature was not quite alive during the cold spell, she knew that her time was coming when she would bloom again.
See, I love how Mother Nature’s plant life sleeps in the winter, following this cyclical routine. Her plants wilt, fall, root, rise, and bloom. And the pattern repeats itself, year after year.
Much like her plants, we, as people, go through parts of our life that follow the concept of cyclical change. Wilting, falling, rooting, rising, and then blooming.
I best see the earth around me in harmony with human life thanks to eye opening writer Rupi Kaur, who taught me to…
“…think of those flowers you plant
in the garden each year
they will teach you
that people too
must wilt
fall
root
rise
in order to bloom.”
Once I put in perspective that my journey follows that of all life, whether plant based or human based, I can better appreciate and learn from all the experiences I go through and take them for what they are: growth.
I know that some years, growth will be painful. It will hurt me and cause me to spend more nights crying myself to sleep than with a smile on my face, but it is all part of the revolution of me. Those may be the years I wilt, but the years after will be those that I rise, just like the plants that bloom right on time in the spring.
If I can take this winter’s experiences and learn that it is normal and healthy to go through periods of change, albeit it was uncomfortable and incredibly pessimistic at times, I can better handle challenging situations that life throws at me.
With this beautiful summer ahead of me and this beautiful life ahead of me, I’m choosing to work on celebrating growth, in all of its pains and aches. I’m choosing to let go of things, people, guys, that make me feel anything but energized and alive. This change of seasons is reminding me of what I could feel like if I just chose to embrace the cycle of growth. I’m tired and sick of choosing sadness, and while it was easy to do in a time of year known for depression and cabin fever, I now have no choice but to want to mimic this cheerful lively step into spring.
It’s a change of seasons, but it’s also a change in attitude.
And already, it’s put a “spring” in my step.
