Each year at this time, as the birds start to chirp and the cherry blossoms burst in the cool spring skyline, I am taken with the metaphor of rebirth.
For as long as I can remember, and most certainly since I was old enough to yearn for something more, this time gave me hope, purpose and determination. I could view my life head-on and behold it for its flaws and opportunities. See so clearly and honestly in a way I never quite managed to at other times.
Maybe it was something in the spiritual energy that always managed to humble me and bring about the kind of courage needed for truth. And, with that truth, I grasped that I was not beholden to my old way of doing things. No matter how many times I’d chosen one way, another was always possible.
Is it too much to believe that we can be born anew? We see it in nature. The roses blossom, then fade away only to return afresh – brighter, bolder the next year on. The bloom, the emergence, is not a finite moment. It is a cycle of ever-evolving. One gift of the human condition is that we can choose to embrace that cycle too.
Each year, rebirth means something different and, yet, the same. For me, seeking life in full integrity. And the presence to appreciate the miracle in each moment.
Each year, channeling the energy for hope and change, even through tears and uncertainty, and growing a little more into it.
Each year brings its own challenges and its own blessings, which we can meet with fresh eyes, renewed spirit and the strength we’ve cultivated in tending this soil over time.
This year, I am filled with awe and gratitude as I see the buds, feel the roots, spreading wide from the seeds planted in years past.