Tenderness and Spring
March Newsletter
Hello earthlings,
I’m writing to you from my sofa, in a cocoon of blankets.
Yesterday, we welcomed Ostara, the Spring Equinox for folks in the northern hemisphere. What a joy to finally be heading towards warmer, brighter days.
I’ve been walking the same route for years now, where I live, walking amongst the little nature that remains amongst the sprawling city where I live. It has always been my safe haven, a place where I can soften and lean into my tender feelings, held by the harmony of birdsong, the gentle swaying of the trees.
On my walks these past couple of weeks, I’ve witnessed the stirring of spring. Its soft awakening has brought me hope. The wild woods carry my grief.
In the blossoming leaves on the trees, I imagine a future where peace unfurls amongst the rubble and loss of a people. It feels hard to hold these contrasts, the reality of destruction, and the awakening of new life and possibility that spring brings. How can I hold the two?
In amongst this suffering, I am reminded of the tenderness of spring. On the cusp of winter, seedlings make their journey through the soil, beckoned by the warmth of the sun. Do they feel fear? Do they feel the rattling of the earth as bombs fall? Do they question whether it is safe to rise into this unknown world? I like to think they see hope. Hope for a future that’s possible. Where we care for one another, and rejoice in each other’s interconnected lives.
I dream of this. I hope for this 🌸
Thank you for reading today’s more heartfelt message.
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