The twenty-third spring
Everything will thaw in time.
Today I took a walk in the stiff late winter air dressed in mismatched oranges under a patchy blue sky and listened to Iron and Wine. I stared at the mossy sidewalk cracks and tried not to look at my watch to track my mile pace. I thought of the messages that weren’t meant for me, and of the ones that were.
I felt content, alive, and reassured that my past self would be grateful for the choices she made. Three feelings that don’t come often to me.
So much of my brain is occupied by longing. Well, that’s the romanticized way to see it. More often than not, it takes the form of worry. It’s a recurring theme in my life, and can be overwhelming in both forms. During the highs, it’s the longing for the elongation of the good feelings, yearning to feel real and present and peaceful forever. During the lows, it’s the persistent worry that the sadness and shame and regret will never cease.
Why do such strong feelings tend to exist in absolutes? Love inhabits every pore, every molecule of your being. Grief washes you out of yourself all at once. Joy tints your vision gold and shimmery. Hopelessness hollows you out and chains you to the floor. Such feelings overtake you and convince you that no other feelings exist in the world. This is it, this is fullness—of both good and bad. You’ve arrived in this moment and you’re here to stay.
It’s no secret that moments of contentment come and go, so why am I so hesitant to believe it will always come back when it’s gone?
I’ve seen twenty-two winters from start to end, from the first morning chill to the warmth of April rains. I’ve laid in the darkness, lingered in the silence of my own introspection, and still lived to see the daffodils bloom. Why should this twenty-third winter be any different? Spring will always come around.
Spring will warm into summer, and summer will fade into fall. New growth will sink roots into the ground, eventually the grandfather trees will decompose. You will lose yourself in the noise, then return to your body where you belong. We rise, and fall, and rise again. Despite what’s so easy to believe, we will not exist in this space forever. And we must accept the relief and loss that comes with that realization.
Polaroids will fade in the sun, home will shift, questions will go unanswered. Your true self will go in and out of style. Everything will change. Spring will always come around to nourish the moss growing in the cracks in the sidewalk.
Where I’ve been finding fullness
Daily: Midday walks, stillness in moments without content, a sweet treat just because, conversations with kids just being kids
Media: Call It Dreaming by Iron and Wine, Amelia by Samia - “oh my god there’s nothing quite like doing what you came to do”
And now, a word from this week’s guest writer, my cat Pebble.
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-Pebble
Here’s hoping we find peace in our absolute feelings,
Helena