The Spirit of Spring Journal 5
3/27/08 Reflecting on the End of March
The end of March here on the cusp of the Merrimack is like the stillness before the growth. It’s that point after the deep exhalation. The purge of winter has come and gone. Here on the cusp, there’s no snow. The ground has begun to thaw. But nothing is turning green. The grass is like a carpet of hay. Sure, there’s some catkins on the crazy birches, but they don’t really count. At best, they’re some silver reminders something is about to happen. But right here, right now, nothing is happening. And that’s the beauty of the end of March.
There’s a Zen-like quality to the light all around. Because the trees are still bare but the sun is approaching a Labor Day quality to its brightness, the woods are washed in light like no other time of year. As if someone was holding a magnifying glass and letting the sun amplify its brightness. And so, soon the earth will be on fire, green with the flames of life. But not yet.
Feel the pure emptiness. The shining void. Don’t miss it. It doesn’t last that long. Soon, the earth can’t help itself. An inhalation like you won’t believe will be coming. It’s the greatest show on earth. But right here, right now, the grounds are empty. The tents are still on the way. Feel the tingle of excitement. The red-winged blackbirds have arrived to watch the show. But stop, be still, like March. You, right now, are in that place before the Big Bang, when the Universe, or what many call God, was just about to breathe. The beautiful bare beginning is here.
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