May 2025
Spring invites, teases, promises and, in spite of ourselves, stirs our souls. Perhaps Spring, more than January 1st 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?
Spring Tapestry
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/
Look up. May you pause to align and allow.
*Wood Becomes Water, Chinese Medicine in Everyday Life, Gail Reichstein, 20th 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
*Speaking of outside – do we GO outside EVERY day? For some, this is a no-brainer. If we are fortunate enough to live in a place where outdoor space is abundant and welcoming, well, we are fortunate and therefore have no reason not to open that door and venture out. If we work outdoors, even if we need to get to our cars, or have dogs that need to be walked – again, fortunate. But sometimes we do need to pick ourselves up and spend time in outdoor awareness, noticing the terrain, feeling the air, observing the surroundings and listening. One of the advantages (yes, I count this as advantage) of having a dog is that he or she absolutely must go outside. Opening the door and granting pee time is not enough. Our furry friends need exercise so outside it is – rain, snow, sleet, hail – or so the saying goes. Invariably, we find that even the worst weather conditions offer their own benefits.
The month of August falls squarely in the middle of the Five Element cycle*. According to Gail Reichstein, Wood Becomes Water, Chinese Medicine In Everyday Life, “Earth is considered the prime stabilizing force.” Think also of the season, a time that brings spring’s seeds and summer’s growth to fruition, harvest, plenty. Think Mother Earth, nurturing, nourishing, balancing, accumulating, allowing and perhaps even sustaining deeply rooted hope. In today’s world of daily disasters, atrocities and frenetic technology, it is good to step back for a few moments and simply to be.
Recently I have stepped outside my comfort zone to join a book club led by my friend Ana del Rosal (
One of my favorite things to do is practice framing and reframing. I use the latter for problem solving and the former to capture scenes when I choose to take a leisurely walk to simply enjoy the beautiful state in which I live. Yes, ok, I get it. When I actually click the button on my phone to take a picture and not simply file in my memory, yes, ok, I have not turned my cell phone off.
Today was one of those days – serious rain followed by sun then by clouds then by hot sun then by a good drenching while the sun was shining then by thunder and a downpour then by bright sun …..But walk we did. Coming upon a road closure with two Labs on leash was a real find! Even the invasives are gorgeous as they thrive. Driving home from the local market I was forced to stop to capture the view. Letting my girls play in the beaver pond was so breathtaking, I just had to whip out the phone … and you know what followed.
Enjoy. Love from Sophie, Lizzie and me
Watching as the world around us transition from season to season circling the year’s clock face, pass through clearly defined phases and then reconnect to begin again is a lesson in change, adaptation, and light. Yes, light. If we look – really look – with our physical eyes, inner sight, mental clarity and creative vision, we learn lessons that support and sustain us as we move forward.
Last weekend here in Vermont we were flooded with gorgeous, brilliant colors topped with a dusting of snow on our highest peaks. This weekend we are Past Peak and Still Beautiful. As I noted this on my walk, I was startled to realize that this is a meaningful concept indeed! How often do we admire an antique, painting, vintage clothing or older friend? How much do we appreciate the athlete who has transitioned from the prime days of record-breaking achievement to an athlete who, with maturity, coaches, writes, and reaches out with shared skills?
Is any of this less? Perhaps the transition itself is the learning curve to land experience as something useful rather than degenerative.
Arthur C. Brooks is a popular author whose latest book is From Strength to Strength, Finding Success, Happiness and Deep Purpose in the Second Half of Life. I’m taking my time with this one as there are gems on each, page. You might also enjoy this podcast conversation of Brooks with Rich Roll: 
Within the principles of the Five Element Theory of Traditional Chinese Medicine, we have fully entered the time of year associated with the Metal Element and find ourselves involved with the process of refining, honoring wisdom and self-knowledge. (Past Peak but Still Beautiful?) As Gail Reichstein writes in her excellent book, Wood Becomes Water, Chinese Medicine in Everyday Life, the emotion associated with this time of year is grief. “Grief also teaches us what we value in our lives and in the lives of others, giving us the opportunity to redirect our energies toward becoming who we most want to be.”
The Green Mountain National Forest, and more specifically the Camel’s Hump State Forest, are just outside my door. It is therefore no surprise that black bears, who find this an ideal setting in which to live, breed and raise their young, are my next-door neighbors. For the most part, they are good neighbors. They have yet to knock on my door, but they have walked within yards of my home. They keep going, though, as there is nothing to tempt them and, if she notices, my chocolate Lab, Sophie, will make quite a fuss.
But let me go back to some of what I have learned. First of all, here in Vermont, we have BLACK bears. I first learned this a few years ago. I was hiking a 4000’ trail in New Hampshire on a day when there were very few cars parked on the lot below so allowed Sophie to hike off leash. At one point she ran just ahead of me, around a sharp turn, and I heard a voice shout – “OH (expletive-expletive)! If this is a bear, I’m dead!” (Note, Sophie is effusive in her greetings.) Within seconds several other young male voices laughed and teased the first male and began to play with Sophie. One reminded him that if, in fact, this had been a brown bear, he would be dead.
Which brings me back to my Mama Bear story. In 2000, I found myself unexpectedly single and in Santa Fe with my daughter who had just graduated from high school. It was meant to be a family celebration but became something much different. With my daughter’s help, I connected with the strength that I would need to go forward and recognized that the small, stone bear I purchased had special significance for me and for the years ahead. In Native American tradition, bears symbolize physical strength, leadership and are known as the “first helper.” Bear paws are a symbol representing inner strength. My new little figurine of a Zuni bear signifies The Guardian of the Earth. A heart-line arrow going from head to heart symbolizes a warrior’s heart, strong like the bear’s. If no longer a wife, I would be forever a Mama Bear. Today my bear sits on my desk next to my computer monitor. It has traveled many miles and through many situations since the year 2000.
I return to the Mama Bear identity one last time. Perusing the internet I found one statement in an ad for what was dubbed a Mama Bear fleece, that stated: “tough mamas maximize every day.” I also landed on this: “The real definition: A mama bear is a mama with boundaries. A woman who parents the best way she can, for her child, and a woman who doesn’t apologize for her choices. A mama bear is a woman who asserts herself in any way as a parent. She says ‘no’”. Mama Bear. I’ll take it.
Note: I take issue with this survey of black bears in Vermont! The bears in my neighborhood stroll, unconcerned, across patios and along country roads. By later in the summer, when readily available food in the woods is not so readily available, “our” bears have no problem searching dumpsters, around outdoor grills and even through an open door if they happen upon one. However, I do live in a region where bears find a natural habitat. 
For three decades my habitat was a studio. Not just any studio, mind you, but two distinctly different and amazing studios. First, there was the studio in Baltimore. I began ballet lessons with the reigning royalty of classical ballet, Carol Lynn, way way back when I was just 4 years old. Miss Lynn’s kingdom was the huge ground level studio in the Peabody Conservatory of Music, Dance Department. Miss Lynn was respected far and wide as a leading expert and to study with her was deemed a privilege. The studio space was from another epoch. Gorgeous, worn wooden floors vibrated with the energy of movement over a century. Three story high windows needed to be raised and lowered with a 20-foot-long pole – or longer, I can’t really remember. Needless to say, the ceiling was waaaaaay up there. Massive mirrors covered one entire wall. A balcony lined another wall for visitors and critics. A graduate student from the Conservatory piano department accompanied classes on the baby grand in the corner. One door led to an open marble hallway and another to dressing rooms that in turn led to a courtyard. It was magical. I left this studio in my early teens to study in NYC where another old and fabulously worn studio became my home.
Though I continue to teach and write, and though I continue to spend hours each day in physical activity, I now do so with the constant reminder of the outdoors connection. Possibly, it is why we live in Vermont. The outdoors is safe. The outdoors is clean. The outdoors is free.
Community has been redefined. Even the tiniest connection – a phone call or text, photo or face time, card or package – is duly appreciated forging bonds replacing tenuous strands. And in my own small (there’s that word again) world of Zoom, those minutes of unmuted video before and after a teacher-led practice are golden; they are fun and sensitive and compelling moments of genuine community.
