Early spring is a tender time. A few trees bud; a few plants emerge. Late spring is a frenzy: everything grows and blooms. But early spring is for the brave. And this reminds me of human behavior. We don’t often reveal our tender, vulnerable places. Before we act, we wait for others (to know what’s “normal”). We seek external approval. At times, our choice comes from wisdom, but more often it comes from fear.
Rumi writes:
"Keep walking, though there's no place to get to.
Don’t try to see through the distances.
That’s not for human beings. Move within,
but don't move the way fear makes you move."
Instead of blindly following the loud, urgent voice of fear, we can make a different choice: pause, get quiet, and listen to our true voice. We can move from within. The tender places connect us. During this pandemic, we’re all meeting our edge (and our edge meets other people’s edge). Some of us are alone. Some of us are surrounded by too many people. We experience a range of emotions, our hearts cracked open.
Instead of “be happy,” I encourage a message of “be real.” Be real and be kind. Let’s be honest about the heartbreaking realities and rough edges. (On Friday night, I yelled—an enraged, primal yell—at Mark. It scared me. I took a long pause, cried, made amends, and began anew.) Let’s be honest about the wondrous moments of compassion and gratitude. (Yesterday, while Mark and I walked in the woods, we heard a chorus of frogs. We moved closer, stood still, and listened. It was magical.)
I think the more brave acts we witness—even small ones—the more courage we gain to tell our stories, be ourselves, and express our passions and fears. We can be the beautiful, brave, vulnerable flowers of early spring. We're in this together, friends!
