The time of the warring seasons is here.
Spring battles Winter in a long, drawn out fight.
The conclusion is inevitable. We know who the winner will be.
Perhaps that’s what makes the Winter seem harsher now: the desperation in its fight.
Spring days and Winter nights.
Clear, glorious sun giving warmth.
Drenching, dreary rain chilling to the bone.
Hardest of all is the sense of dislocation in this all. Am I in Winter or am I in Spring? Should my body be hibernating and hunkering down, or going out and expansively exploring?
Do I feel the joy of new life? Or mourn the death and destruction I still see?
It is a time that forces onto us a hard practice: to be present with the unresolvable conflict. To feel joy and sorrow at once, equally. To switch from Winter to Spring and back again with as much ease as we can muster.
I walk with my dog in the woods under the bright sun and hear the chirping of newly born birds.
I walk with my dog in the woods in the drenching rain and see the fallen trees and washed out trails.
Life within Death within Life within Death.
The season of infinity: the snake that eats its tail.