Spring Calm

I flew to North Carolina today to visit my friend Samantha before i go to Southern Dharma Retreat Center this weekend for Spring Clean-Up. Yes, it really is spring here in zone 8. Redbuds are blooming in the woods, which itself is tinged with green. Daffodils, tulips, hyacinths smile in lawns. Oh, my. This weekend, at my home in zone 5, temperatures will drop into the single digits.

Samantha said that since she's let go of her expectations of her family, she feels so calm. She had been so accustomed to feeling anxious that feeling calm is a brand-new sensation. Calm is possible! Calm is possible once you let go (let go, let go) of those stressors you've been carrying around with you like extra weight. You don't realize how weighty that extra is until you let go and feel a heck of a lot lighter.

But actually, all anyone can do is report to you from a different climate zone. It's spring down here. And calm feels really, really light. This is something you have to see/feel for yourself.

In Memory of Florence

The first Tuesday of March is Town Meeting Day here in Vermont--a day when a couple of hundred town citizens (about 10% of our town's population) sit on metal folding chairs in the gymnasium of the K-8 school and vote on spending money on a new road grader or buying a new fire truck or passing the school budget.

Today's Town Meeting began with a roll call of those who had died in the past year, followed by a moment of silence. The last name was Florence H. who always sat in the front row at Town Meeting.

I blogged about Florence a year ago. In memory of her, i'm reprinting part of that blog here:

When i was checking out of our local farm and garden store, i saw a lovely hand-drawn card of flowers taped to Florence's cash register. Florence has been a clerk at the store for as long as i've been going there--a few decades. "What a lovely card," i said.
"Oh, that was for my birthday," she said. "Last August."
"So, how old are you, if i may ask?"
"93," said Florence. "Sometimes, it's a bit scary."
Yes, living in an aging body is scary. You're on a roller-coaster ride, and you don't know what's going to happen next.

We are all living in an aging body, and no one knows what's going to happen next. Another friend, aged 75, sent an emissary to Town Meeting to propose that our little bitsy town sign the Charter of Compassion. That friend will not live to see our next Town Meeting.

Compassion is one of the best antidotes for fear.

Pruning the Orange Tree

When we returned from 3 weeks in London in mid-January, the orange tree looked pathetic. It's always been a challenge to keep that little tree watered. The soil dries out extra fast.

Usually i put the orange tree up front so i can see it and remember to water it. But somehow it was standing in the back row of houseplants, its green leaves dry and curled up. No amount of water rejuvenated the leaves, so i asked my sweetie to prune it while i left the room. Bill is an excellent pruner, but i can't bear to watch. The finished product looked like a gangly teenager--tall and skinny--with a mop of green leaf "hair" at the top. Not really attractive.

Two weeks later, orange blossoms perfume the air and little green leaves sprout from what remains of the branches.

Sometimes, we have to prune off the dead wood of our lives, the dead branches, so that we can flower. This past week, I've thrown away my scrapbooks from the 1960s and 1970s. Gone. Well, it was already gone. Long gone. Now, even the nostalgia is gone, and the memories are gone too. As i realize that the memory takes place in the present moment.


photo by EugeneZelenko

Glory of the Snow

I planted spring bulbs in pots and put them in the garage in early December. Three weeks ago, i began bringing pots into the house. The first to bloom is Glory of the Snow (Chionodoxa; chion = snow; doxa = glory).

I love these little bulbs. They multiply on their own and show up in unexpected places. And this hardy little flower likes it cool.

How do we grow ourselves in cool times? How do we flourish and multiply even when the climate is chilly?

First of all, we rely on our spiritual friends. Just like Glory of Snow, we thrive in a colony, even if we do prefer our solitude. In hard times, we can count on our spiritual friends to keep us from straying into the bushes.


photo by color line

It Looks Like Winter

Even though it's five degrees outdoors right now, the sun is shining. It feels like winter, but winter is being eroded by the sun, drop by drop.

Birds are arriving from the south, silently and invisibly. Suddenly, there's a robin despite the dusting of snow last night. Next week, the bluebirds arrive. The week after that, the great blue herons. And the last week of March, the phoebes.

The practice of meditation erodes our bad habits, bit by bit, as we bring mindfulness into our daily lives. We zip our lips instead of zinging off an opinion, and we speak up, truthfully and helpfully in all heartfulness, when we need to.

It looks like winter outdoors, but the heart of spring is arriving drop by drop.



Photo by scubadive67

Lamb & Lion

March came in like a lamb--all misty, drizzling, warmish, and feeling like spring. But the night of March 1, the winds began to blow, the temperatures dropped below freezing, which, due to wind chill, felt frigid.

Here is our challenge: to speak softly and gently when the situation warrants. And to speak like a lion when needed. Could we even speak like a lion and still have the heart of a lamb?

Now, and for the foreseeable future is the time to speak up, to speak out. Speak like a lion when necessary. And remember your lamb's heart.

The Delicious Smell of Skunk

I walk out the door to drizzle and melting snow, and i smell skunk. That's a definite indicator of spring.

Smell of skunk: unpleasant. The thought of spring: pleasant. It's interesting and even fun to notice the pleasant arising so quickly after the unpleasant.


The smell of skunk is deliciously awful. Stinky yes. But the skunks are mating right outside the door, somewhere in the woods nearby and have left their pee-yew pheromones for us to sniff. And smile.