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Another Season
Do I have the strength to adapt?
Voles instinctively know the seasons change from winter to spring. They leap up from hibernation ready to take care of essential business — eating, mating, and nesting.
No therapist signals the trees to start budding in the spring so their flowers will be ready for the pollinators.
But humans are a confused lot. Once of the Earth, we have cut ourselves off from the invisible vibrations that coax us into the different seasons of our lives.
My fruit trees and garden were once my second greatest joy. When the collapse came — I speak of that time in apocalyptic terms because for our family it was the end — my soul had no more capacity for the plants. My trees have mostly carried on without me. We’ve lost a couple to the storm last year, the ornamental cherry and one of the plums.
This is the first spring without any cherry blossoms, and something inside of me is trying to stir from a deep hibernation.
Some signal is telling me the seasons have changed and it’s time to bud and bloom.
Do I dare acknowledge the signal? Do I give myself to this renewed ancient impulse or do I resist and go back to sleep?
