"This outward spring and garden are a reflection of the inward garden." ~ Rumi

Friday ~

It's hard to believe that the temperature reached to over 70 degrees yesterday, when I sat out on the deck and took in the sun without nary a thought or concern about being chilled, and today is as different as if I had traveled many hours on a jet airplane to another continent and climate. But this is spring in New England, when things change so rapidly, and the transformation from filth to splendor is majestic and swift.

"The sun was warm but the wind was chill. You know how it is with an April day. When the sun is out and the wind is still, You're one month on in the middle of May. But if you so much as dare to speak,a cloud come over the sunlit arch, And wind comes off a frozen peak, And you're two months back in the middle of March."- Robert Frost


Today, April's rain have come, because April come she will, and she has, with a quiet chill that has all but silenced the peepers and wood frogs that have filled our wetlands with truly deafening vibrations of song. I suspect that all the rain we are destined to receive over the next four days will green things up mightily, flood the small streams, and bring out the earliest buds on the tops of the trees. Deservedly called the "cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain," (that's TS Eliot) April bemuses and delights.

But it is to these natural rhythms, however predictably off-kilter, to which I try to align myself. Rather than let myself be overhwhelmed and toppled over by my sons' sport schedules, or by the endless to-do lists constantly forming in my head, I try, try, try to lose myself instead in the slower-paced rhythms of the natural world. This is my new task: to reconstruct my self, my time, and my space in ways that keeps me connected to and replenished with that which nourishes the trio of primal spirit, body and mind, constituting well-being, manifesting joy, and grounding peace. There are small victories out there amidst the rubble of defeat; it's my challenge to notice them, and turn my appreciation forward, one step at a time. Hearing from my oncologist that I will most likely not have to do battle with chemo is a victory of sorts, to be certain, and one I hope to fully appreciate and enjoy once the oncotype test is back. But my joy is muted by news of other kind, that loved ones are suddenly facing cancers of their own and other treacherous terrain, and with that comes the opportunity for me to help them, to keep the Juju circulating, to open wide the collective spirit and infuse the circle with the small victories that make living in this precarious world tenable. That the world continues to spin astounds me.

I take my cues from April. And I send you all LOVE.