Friday, March 15, 2013

The dregs of winter will not last forever

A couple of warmish days last weekend lead me to believe that winter's back was broken, but no, it was just a tease. Spring has not yet arrived. I could blame the sadness I've been experiencing on the weather, or on turning sixty, something that continues to be baffling and alarming. I could blame it on the stellium of planets in Pisces except that close grouping is now opening up; planets are moving into Aries at last. I'm still sad.

Another excuse I came up with yesterday is seasonal. During the dregs of winter, many of our most tragic myths arose, i.e. the suffering, torture and death of Jesus, the enslavement in Egypt of the Jews. The spring equinox myths of Easter and Passover are not only about the miracle of Jesus rising from his grave, the miracle of arriving in the holy land, oh no. They are focused much more on the suffering that precedes the miracle. We humans are a funny species, aren't we?

I have plenty of excuses to feel sad, so that's good - I guess! Good, too, that I'm not depressed; this is not a dementor attack. I've felt sad, I've been actively grieving, missing Jake, that sort of thing. I've even been crying - so unusual for me. Physiologically a good cry is very cleansing; I'm trying to just let the tears fall where they may, whenever they come up. Why not?

Suffice it to say that this moment in the history of me is not happy. It should be happy, but it isn't. Oh well, such is life, hey? Such is life. I'm resolved to sit with what's moving through me, let it be exactly as it is. Someone posted on FB the other day that whatever path you're on - that's the path to enlightenment. I wait for the light with compassion and presence.



Rebecca Clayton said...

Hmmm. I've been unusually in tune with Lent this year, which is classic spring-time sadness; I'd been blaming it on the strange news coverage of the pope(s). Maybe it's something else.

In Appalachia, the blooming of the first trees used to mark the time for funerals, because the ground was finally thawed enough for grave digging. (They kept the winter's dead in coffins in cold out-buildings.)

The first, most beautiful tree to bloom is Amelanchier, which they call "sarvice" or "service" around here. (They call it "shadberry" around D.C. because it bears tasty fruit in June, around the time the shad run in the rivers.) It's called "service" because it was the only flower available for those early spring funeral services.

(This is what people around here tell me....I've never researched it to find out if it's factual, or a folk-legend.)

Anyway, there's a lot of remembrance of the dead in our spring rituals, so who shouldn't be sad sometimes?

Reya Mellicker said...

Wonderful information, Rebecca. Thank you!

Reya Mellicker said...

I love thinking I'm in tune with the season.