Spring invites, teases, promises and, in spite of ourselves, stirs our souls. Perhaps Spring, more than January 1^st or a birthday, marks a beginning. According to the Five Element Theory of Traditional Chinese Medicine, Spring is the season of the Wood Element. It is the beginning of growth as the season transitions from winter – the most Yin time of the year – to summer – when Yang energy is at it’s peak.

In the world around us, new growth is evident. Geography informs the weeks and months in which this happens, but in any event, green appears – leaves on trees, grass pushing up from the soil, bulbs creating their hopeful display and buds opening to the sun.

This time of growth is also apparent in animals and humans as cubs, pups, goslings and lambs are born and spirits are lifted. Motivation and the awakening of sleepy energy are almost tangible.

How might we align ourselves with this season of new growth? Can we allow the fragile stirrings of energy and hoped for abundance land in our hearts and minds? As our roots grow deep, like trees we can open our branches and let time itself take over the process of flowering.

Returning to the Wood Element each spring makes sense to me. There are many resources but my continuing favorite is WOOD BECOMES WATER*, by Gail Reichstein. Here the author writes simply of relating the five elements to everyday life. For example, in the human life cycle, Wood parallels childhood. Consider the coincidence of dawn, creativity, green, wind, vision (physical and mental/emotional) and flexibility (literal and figurative) – all associated with this season. Again I ask, how might we align with this season of new growth?

Here in Vermont, spring arrives late and is often subtle. As I write this, it is the middle of May and we are experiencing severe thunderstorms and buckets of rain. Gardeners are cautioned not to plant until Memorial Day weekend. (Snow, though welcomed in the winter might make a quick but unwanted appearance well into the month.) For the most part, frost has left the ground and mud season is past. Flooding is always a possibility. Fields of dandelions are about to pop with yellow-gold and hills are displaying texture and color as that gorgeous green of newness superimposes the dark green of pines, firs and their relatives. One cannot help but allow all that spring suggests to enter one’s being.

Yes, the world is a bit of a mess. Yes, we face daily challenges in many aspects of our lives. Yes, we feel helpless at times. And yes we really haven’t much to say about the changing seasons – they will happen one way or another**. So perhaps, the best thing is to let go, align with what this particular season suggests, and allow the growth to happen. If we are motivated to creatively look forward, let us follow those plans with good energy. If we are able to reframe our challenges and look at them – not as Pollyannas – but proactively, well then, let us get on with the business (and privilege) of problem-solving.

Spring is an invitation. If you have read this far(!), I invite you to pause to consider the season of your present life. Recently I was reminded that to pause and simply follow one breath cycle – I am breathing in; I am breathing out – is a meditation in and of itself, a moment of presence. It is a moment to align with oneself, to begin again.

Last night I stood with a much-loved family member to watch a boys’ lacrosse game. Approaching severe thunder storms mingled with intense competition as the two teams played a grudge match. Yet at one point, my companion said ‘Look!’ There across the sky was a complete rainbow. It was breathtaking.

A rainbow means many things to many people. From Noah and his Ark to  Judy Garland to Irish folklore, a rainbow represents an infinite display of meaningful emotions and values from art and religion to color, diversity and creativity; new beginnings. One of my favorite rainbow thoughts is from a work by Kristin Armstrong*** published many years ago in which she writes: “A rainbow is a symbol of mercy. It is more than a happy reminder of the holy calm after a storm. It is an arrestingly beautiful reminder of every single time in our lives when we did not get what we deserved – when we received blessing in place of punishment.” Armstrong goes on to suggest that seeing a rainbow marks a time to pause, a reminder to breathe, and the moment in which to say “Thank  you.”

Look up. May you pause to align and allow.

*Wood Becomes Water, Chinese Medicine in Everyday Life, Gail Reichstein, 20^th Anniversary Edition, (1998 and 2018) Kodansha USA Publishing, LLC

**There is no political implication in this statement but a rather naive sentiment of the hoped for permanence of the natural world.

***Strength for the Climb, Kristin Armstrong, (2007) Hachette Book Group