The wheel keeps turning, and has brought us around again to Spring.

I snuck out of work today and walked around the  old military fort down by the water.  It’s shaped like a pentacle and surrounded by water on three sides.  It was cold down there but warm when the sun broke through the clouds.  The sun played hide-and-seek.  It reminded me of this holiday, the way it proclaims Spring as Sprung, though the earth is still hard and the trees still bare. 

The wind blew fiercely, making water crash against the seawall, making my ears burn with cold.  Air, bring me clarity.  Sun, cleanse me with your fire.  Trees, show me how to root deeply. Water, teach me how to adapt.  I am surrounded by the elements all the time. I am made of them. I feel cradled by them, caressed by them.

I walk across the grass.  I see a small blue weedy flower I learn later is called Creeping Veronica—what an amazing name! I pass by the twenty-four foot statue of Orpheus, the ancient Greek hero of song and poem, and my pick for most idiosyncratic statue in town. He holds his lyre and a fierce look in his eye.

I leave this place reluctantly.  I want to bury my face into the dirt and rub my knuckles against the rough bark of a tree.  Today everyone is celebrating balance, but I am more intrigued by what this holiday promises to come.  Rising sap.  The quickening of earth.  The explosion of so much sex energy, so much qi.  At Imbolc I said I was going to “Walk with the Bear”.  The Bear awakens in the spring.  She awakens hungry.  Where will I go for food? What will I chose to eat?  

I have things in need of growth.  Needs that have languished beneath the ground, beneath the soil for far too long.  They’ve lacked for water, they’ve lacked for sun.  In this springtime, when both become increasingly ample, I claim my share of sun and rain.  I claim healing for myself.  It is my birthright.  It is my destiny and my will.  So mote it be.